


Never in the Past Tense

by dixiehellcat



Series: Wordsmith [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Pepper Potts, BAMF Tony Stark, Canon-Typical Violence, Chrissy gets a date, F/M, Female Friendship, First Kiss, Gen, Girl Power, Iron Man 2 sort of compliant, Justin Hammer is a jerk, Male-Female Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Team Pepperony, if you want to make God lol tell him your plans, less compliant than the first of this series, mentions of suicide warning signs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-04 06:58:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixiehellcat/pseuds/dixiehellcat
Summary: The time period of Iron Man 2, in the Wordsmith verse. Chrissy struggles to balance journalistic objectivity with her friendships with Tony and Pepper, as well as another friendship that may be taking an unexpected turn. Her life is definitely not going as she planned, and she has to decide if she's okay with that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, volume 2! Thanks again to everybody who read, kudo'ed and commented on part 1, The Placement of Angels. This one veers a little farther away from canon, so strap in and keep hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times while the ride is in motion. :)
> 
> Reminder: double colons denote a text or email message.

I swear, sometimes I wonder how Pepper Potts still has any hair. As fond as I am of Tony Stark, if I had to ride herd on him around the clock, either I’d be bald, or he would. Clearly, she is made of far tougher stuff than I.

I sat in a hotel room in Washington DC, snacking on sesame sticks and watching the grand opening of the Stark Expo from New York City. No standard opening ceremony was good enough for Tony, oh no. As crowds whooped and cameras panned across the night sky, a plane flew over the expo grounds and a tiny spot of light dropped from beneath it. For a few eternal seconds it plummeted in freefall, then ignited and shot off into flight, swooping through the air past exploding firework shells, toward a stage filled with dancing girls in football-cheerleader-ish costumes. The cameras zoomed in and the spot resolved into a figure by now familiar to America and the world, a figure in brilliant red and gold armor: Iron Man, AKA Tony Stark. 

He made a perfect three-point landing and emerged from the suit…in a tux, no less…to the roar of the crowds. Damn, he soaked it up like dry ground in a rainstorm. I couldn’t blame him, I supposed. Everybody wants praise, and though you might think a billionaire engineering genius would get more than his fill, he always seemed to have room for more. Sure, he had an ego, but he also had that incredible charisma. Even beyond that, as I listened to him talk to the crowd about making a better future and leaving a legacy, I was reminded that under it all, Tony Stark had a huge, caring heart.

Heaven knew, he had been working hard on that legacy. It had been barely six months since he revealed himself as Iron Man, and I could have had a full-time job doing nothing but covering him. Among other high-profile activities, he had helped fight wildfires up the California coast, brought an airliner into LAX safely when two engines failed, participated in the rescue of the crew of a stranded experimental submarine, and lent a hand to resolving several political dustups in Eastern Europe, the Middle East, and Africa. Oh, and he continued running Stark Industries, now focused on sustainable solutions to humanitarian issues. And Time magazine named him Person of the Year. And now, he was launching a revival of the worldwide showcase for technical innovation originated by his father.

All things equal, I would much rather have been there, probably poking fun at him, than here. Hopefully, sometime in the next year, I could get Pepper to slip me a pass. I was sure somewhere, unseen, my friend and Tony’s assistant was quietly working her magic to make everything run smoothly. That way, I could go and enjoy all the crazy techno-wizardry that filled the exhibit buildings to overflowing, without being on the clock writing something up for the magazine where I worked. Not that I disliked my job; far from it. Sometimes, though, I just want to be me, instead of being told what to do.

Case in point, where I was at that moment in time: in DC, chasing a warmonger. Sound familiar? Yep, same place I’d been almost a year before, pursuing someone I disliked for the sake of a scoop. Only this time, my target was all too happy to be caught. Justin Hammer was doing his level best to fill the gap left in US military planning when Stark Industries pulled out of weapons manufacturing. As we would say back in Tennessee where I grew up, the government said frog, and Hammer jumped. 

He had some kind of top-secret meeting scheduled for the next morning, a committee meeting filled with classified information, no doubt. I didn’t really know why he had insisted I come, when I was just interviewing him and writing an article, except to show off his connections. Hammer had twice the ego Tony did, and a vanishingly small fraction of the charm. It was kind of sad, really.

I got some sleep and got into my own suit of armor in the morning: neat skirt suit, professional pumps just the right height, and small purse with all the tools of the journalist’s trade inside. My hair and makeup and nails were on point. I looked into the mirror and Christine Everhart, Vanity Fair’s ace interviewer, looked back at me. Chrissy the mechanic’s daughter from Carroll County was tucked away as I hailed a cab to the Capitol.

Hammer met me on the front steps. He had what my mother would have called a plain pleasant face, and might have been handsome if he hadn’t been such a jerk. I put on my best fake smile and let him lead the way into the iconic building and to a hearing chamber on the Senate side. “We need to wait out here,” he told me in a fake stage whisper at the closed door. “I’m a surprise witness, you see. A surprise for an arrogant asshole.”

“That sounds like a great morning’s entertainment,” I agreed, hoping the asshole in question might be one Senator Stern of Pennsylvania. A couple of my colleagues from the Philadelphia Inquirer had had unpleasant run-ins with him, and the prospect of watching one jerk bring another down made the day seem brighter. That lasted until the chamber doors were opened. Hammer strode in like he owned the place. I slid around the back wall to get a good vantage spot and figured out instantly that Stern wasn’t the putative asshole Hammer was going after. That dubious honor belonged to the man sitting at the witness table…Tony Stark.

The next moment, I spotted Pepper sitting in the row behind him, and his best friend James Rhodes, in full military uniform with his ton of medals and all, beside him. That boded well, until I registered the profound disapproval on Pepper’s face. Lord, there was no telling what Tony had just said; the chamber was abuzz with mingled amusement and horror. Rhodey was cutting his eyes toward Tony with an expression that said ‘you fuckin’ nut, I love you’. If I’d had to bet, I would have said Tony had just insulted someone who deserved it, in an exceptionally witty way. (Later, when I looked the broadcast of the hearing up online—and wait just a minute, where did that super secret hearing Hammer was talking about go?—I discovered I was right.)

Hammer started to declaim about what a threat Tony and his Iron Man were. It sounded like, unbelievably, Stern was trying to force Tony to give the suits to the government, and Hammer was helping him. It figured. I don’t know a lot about tech or weaponry, but I had picked up enough to tell Hammer wasn’t nearly the innovator or entrepreneur Tony was, so the only way he was getting any trade from the Feds was picking up Tony’s leavings. I slipped my phone out and quickly texted Pepper. ::Hey gal! don’t turn around, I’m in the back of the chamber. I’m stuck doing a piece on that ranting loon up front.::

I watched her glance down at her phone, smile a little and reply. ::you already wrote about Tony::

::lol. Not that loon:: She did have a point though. Tony was fiddling with his phone, and in a few seconds the images being shown on big screens changed, to something of his choosing, apparently. With visual aids marshalled, he charged forward with narration and talked over any and every challenger. There was video of several failed attempts to make Iron Man-type suits, and Hammer himself even appeared in one!

By the time Tony was done, the chamber was in full frenzy. He stood up, put his shades on, and blew a kiss toward the bench. Stern CUSSED him, with cameras from every cable news channel pointed right at his fat bronzer-smudged face. ::that’s gonna have to be bleeped:: I texted Pepper with a hint of smug satisfaction.

Tony worked the crowd on his way out. Pepper looked a little fed up, and honestly Rhodey did too by then. (I checked later and found out Rhodey had pretty much been forced to testify for the government case. The friends would get past that, though, if I knew either of them, which I did, at least enough to say that.)

::sigh:: Pepper replied. ::that’s done at least. Stern may want to take Tony to court, but we have the documentation and the lawyers. I think his suits are safe.::

::good enough. Wish we could hook up for lunch but I have to go follow this numbskull around::

::I have to follow mine back to NYC for expo::

::Hard being long distance friends, but way better than no friends at all.:: I returned. Most of my contact with Tony lately was through my ongoing friendship with Pepper, but I also talked to Happy Hogan, Tony’s driver, and to Rhodey. Somehow, this whole crazy bunch had wormed their way into my life. I liked them all, but I was determined not to let that color my professional judgment. I didn’t need any help to figure out Justin Hammer was a dumbass, anyway.

I hung back while Tony and his entourage swept out the doors with flashes flashing and reporters yelling. Hammer stomped behind them, being totally ignored (except for a couple of military bloggers I knew slightly) with the pout of a petulant preschooler. Playing the dumb-blonde card, I asked, “How did it go? You know I’ll need for you to explain all of that to me, so I can explain it to our readers.”

“Tony fuckin’ Stark!” he snarled.

“I’ve heard that so often, I swear, if it wasn’t a matter of public record otherwise, I would think that was the man’s actual middle name.” As wound up as he was, I wasn’t going to get anything usable out of him if I didn’t soothe him and suck up a bit. That usually worked well, especially with males. I should have known my relationship with Tony was going to be unusual when my suck-up attempt on him totally failed. I put my arm through Hammer’s. “Let’s go get some lunch, someplace nice, and you can process and talk it out to me. I’m a very good listener.”

He brightened up slightly, and snapped his fingers for a cab. “Let’s do that. I want to talk to you about coming to Europe with me.”

“Europe?” I gulped. Not that I wouldn’t love to go to Europe, or even go to Europe and work on this assignment. I just wasn’t all that sure I wanted to go with him.

“Monaco! The Grand Prix Historique. I want you to see what Hammer Industries does for fun.” I suppressed a mental sigh and waited for the inevitable come-on. “We can take my private jet.” 

_Yeah, and at some point on that lengthy flight, you’ll want us to take advantage of the big bed on that private jet,_ I thought. It could be worked around, though. Guys didn’t know better. “I’d love to be your guest at the race! I have to fly commercial, though. Company regulations and all.” Thankfully, he didn’t push. Hammer wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, and not one I wanted to get overly close to. I had done that once, and the results complicated my life at times, although I certainly wouldn’t call meeting Tony Stark and his inner circle a mistake!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper takes Chrissy shopping for Monaco and shares news about her and Tony's lives, which leads Chrissy to a disturbing suspicion. Suspicion turns to alarm when Tony unexpectedly turns up at Chrissy's apartment with a shocking gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE--there is mention of the warning signs of suicide risk in this chapter, just so you know in advance.

Question: what do you pack to attend the Monaco Grand Prix with a snotty billionaire?

Answer: whatever you have in your closet?

Staring into my closet, back home in Cali, that didn’t sound like a very good answer. I decided a better answer was ‘ask your friend who works for a less snotty billionaire’. I texted Pepper and explained the situation. 

::Let me check something. I’ll get back to you:: she replied. I busied myself with digging out the classiest accessories I owned, mostly things I’d found on sale racks and in consignment stores, until my phone alerted me again. Pepper had simply texted me a time, tomorrow mid-morning, and a place, a café we liked.

::????:: I responded, puzzled. Only a smiling emoji came back. I shrugged and worked on another article for the rest of the day. I was actually going to have to go to jail for this interview, an indie film icon who couldn’t seem to stay clean and sober. I’d been trying to write that article for a year, but every time I almost had it in the bag, something else happened; so, lots of work I wasn’t getting paid for.

The next morning, I showed up at the café at the prescribed time. Pepper was parked at a table with a cup of tea and her tablet. “We’re going shopping,” she declared. “It’s a lot easier for me to show you what you’ll want to take than try to explain it. Plus, I can use a distraction.” 

With that, we were off. Happy greeted us outside and ushered us into the back of our ride. Pepper’s cheerful manner seemed a little forced. “What do you need distracting from?” I asked.

She deflated just a little. “What else?”

“Tony,” I guessed.

“Something’s up with him, Chris. Do you know he actually wants to put me in charge at SI?”

“What, really? That’s awesome! You can do it.”

“I know I can do it. In fact, that’s why I couldn’t answer you right away about this shopping trip. He wanted me to start today. When I told him you needed help, though, he said he would ‘defer my promotion’ until tomorrow.” She let out a small dry laugh. “He’s talking about a successor, which doesn’t make sense since he’s way too young to be thinking like that, and talking about his legacy.”

“You know,” I mused, “I wondered why he suddenly wanted to stage another Stark Expo, but thinking about the speech he gave at the opening, and even the presentation of the old video of his dad, it carries that same theme. Do you suppose what he went through in Afghanistan is finally getting to him? Or it just made him, I don’t know, more conscious of his own mortality?” 

Pepper threw up her hands. “I have no idea!” she cried. “And I’m really tired of thinking about it. Let’s just have a good time today, and get you all set for Monaco. It’s beautiful, you’ll like it. How is your piece on Hammer going?”

“All right, I guess. I keep mentally comparing him to Tony, and he doesn’t come out on the positive side of that equation in any category. I think I’m just spoiled.” Pepper chuckled. “He’s a first-rate asshole, and a crappy businessman.”

“At least you shouldn’t have to worry about him putting the move on you,” Pepper commiserated. “I think I remember Tony mentioning once that he prefers guys. He’s very discreet about his personal life though, so he’ll want you around mostly for ego massage and arm candy.”

“Oh. Okay, that’s good intel to have. No wonder he didn’t push for me to fly over there with him. Thanks.”

She hauled me from Rodeo Drive (and yes, I do feel like Julia Roberts every time I set foot in that neighborhood) to the Grove shops near the farmer’s market, to some discount stores we had both shopped at when we first met. At every stop, she analyzed the offerings and put together outfits that flattered, while I got an education on the dressing styles of the rich and famous. “Make sure you take some flats or low heels; high heels are a definite no-no on yachts. I don’t know that Hammer has one, but he probably knows people who do, or will try to get acquainted with some. If the dress code says casual, it means country club. Smart shorts, reasonable length, no booty shorts. Those stylish wide leg pants are terrific, if you’re into those. Do you have a cocktail dress? You’ll need one, or maybe two. Something fitted, usually dark but not necessarily. In fact, with your coloring, let’s try something bright. Knee length or a little above. Your legs look great, let’s make them work for you!”

I was a little overwhelmed, then delighted by our finds, then saddened by the price tags. “Okay, this gives me some options to choose from. Now I’ll cull them down to what I can afford.” At Pepper’s scowl, I sighed. “Vanity Fair is prestigious, and they aren’t cheapskates, but I’m still not making crazy money.”

With one arm, Pepper scooped up the clothes; with the other hand she brandished a piece of plastic. “Tony said to take you shopping and get you what you need.”

“WHAT? Pepper, no, it’d take me a year to pay him back!”

“He doesn’t seem to care much about that anymore,” Pepper said as we waited to pay. “He gave away our entire modern art collection last week, to the Boy Scouts.”

I froze. “He…wait, what?” Pepper nodded. I hoped she couldn’t see the shock on my face as anything more than surprise at a generous gift. In my head, though, a huge red warning light started to flash.

Naming the person he trusted most to steer his family’s company into the future along the path he had set. Talking about, worrying about, what he would leave behind for generations yet unborn. Giving away things precious to him. Connect the dots, and they formed a big neon sign that read SUICIDE RISK.

But why? Tony had escaped Afghanistan with his life through his wits and courage. Now, when he had everything to live for, when he had cheated death, why would he court it again? It made no sense, but I had survived a family member’s suicide. I recognized the signs, and they chilled me down to my very bones. _Lord God, this time, I really want to be wrong._

I tried not to think about that chill over the days that followed. Instead, I threw myself into my work. The day of the jailhouse interview went far better than I expected. Judging from my subject’s changed demeanor, he might finally be getting a clue. I ran some errands, bumped into a former co-worker and caught up over beers, and made my way home to my apartment at last. 

By then, I was too darn tired to make anything elaborate, fun, or even very nutritious for supper. I showered, cleaned off my makeup and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. That done, I was in the kitchen assessing my options when I heard a knock on my door. Great. Barefoot in Pink Panther pajama pants and an oversized dress shirt stolen from an old boyfriend, I sure looked like answering a door. 

Good news was, the man at the door wasn’t dressed much better than I was, in worn jeans and sneakers and a Def Leppard t-shirt with a hoodie half-zipped over it. Bad news was, it was Tony. “Oh,” I said. “Um. Hi, hot rod.”

“Hey, cornbread. Is this a bad time? I know I should’ve called, but I don’t think about that stuff like a normal person would, it didn’t occur to me until I was almost here.”

“Bad time? No, not at all. I was just surprised. And glad to see you! Come on in. Have you eaten? I’m not cooking, but I was just going to fix myself a sandwich. I’ve got lunch meat, or homemade egg salad or pimiento cheese—”

“Pimiento what?”

“Oh, bless your heart, you need educating. Sit,” I ordered and pointed toward the love seat in the living room. Surprisingly, he obeyed while I slapped pimiento cheese on multi-grain bread and poured two glasses of iced tea. With my hands full, I hooked my ottoman with one foot and slid it expertly over in front of him, remembering that for some reason I had not yet been let in on, he didn’t like to be handed things. Before I could set my load down on it, though, he took them from me. Okay, so, maybe taking things wasn’t the same as being handed them. 

He inspected the sandwich. “I’ve heard ’bless your heart’ and it usually doesn’t sound like somebody’s actually blessing my heart.”

“it’s a Southern thing. Often, it’s a polite ‘you are a fucking moron’, but sometimes it’s actual blessing of the heart, which it definitely is in your case. Try that, and if you don’t like it I’ll fix you something else.” He took a tentative bite. “I wanted to thank you for letting Pepper come help me the other day,” I continued. “I needed a knowledgeable eye, and it was really kind of you both.” How to thank him for paying, I had no idea, so I let that ride for now. I timed it so he had a mouth full of food, though, so he couldn’t argue with me. Who argues when somebody thanks them for doing something nice, anyway? Tony Stark does, so short-circuiting that shit worked for me. 

He managed a shrug, and we sat and ate for a few minutes in companionable (and shocking) silence. I took the opportunity to look him over. He looked tired, which jetting back and forth from coast to coast will do to you, but it seemed more than that. His skin appeared rough, and those beautiful dark eyes were almost sunken. He ate about half his sandwich and put the rest down. “Not bad for a weird Southern thing.” I swatted him with my napkin. “My, um, stomach’s been upset though. Don’t think I’ll stuff too much in there, otherwise it’ll come back up on your couch, and who wants that on their conscience? Not me.”

I laughed and finished my sandwich while he gave me the ultimate insider lowdown on the Stark Expo. “So,” I finally asked, “to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Not that you have to have a reason, you’re welcome to come hang anytime.”

“To invite you to a party. My birthday party, to be exact. End of this month.” 

I was touched. “Tony, I’d love to come! Dress code? Should I bring anything?”

“No dress code. Well, let me rephrase that. You probably should dress. Other than that, no. And gifts not necessary. Actually, I have a little gift for you, which is the other reason I came over instead of calling or texting the invite.”

I protested while he fumbled in his hoodie pocket. “Your credit card was smoking by the time Pepper got through with me! What’s with the giving away the—” I stopped cold as my brain caught up with my mouth, and a very bad feeling swept over me, right before Tony retrieved a small bundle, no bigger than his palm and wrapped in a pocket square, and handed it to me.

The silk folds fell back and revealed a little model, a perfect tiny vintage hot rod car, its glossy black paint job lightened by flames on the front fenders. I had seen it once before, in Tony’s bedroom, on a diminutive shelf he had designed specifically to keep dust off it. At my speechless stare, Tony grinned. “I remember you liked it, so I wanted you to have it.”

My hand started to shake, and I carefully set the model down before I dropped it. My lips went numb, but I could no more have stopped the words that burst from them than I could rise and fly. “Tony, please tell me you aren’t thinking of hurting yourself.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony comes clean with Chrissy, sort of. Comfort is offered, and promises are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note--the conversation that began at the end of chapter 2, which includes mention of some warning signs of suicidal thoughts, continues in this chapter, just so y'all are aware.

There was a better way to put it, I was sure. There were a LOT of better ways to put it. Unfortunately, the way my brain chose rose from sudden dread. And judging from the baffled look I got in response, Tony thought I was crazy. “What?”

“Pepper told me you made her SI’s CEO. You mounted a new Stark Expo. You keep talking about choosing a successor, solidifying your legacy.” I waved the little Ford Flathead around. “You’re giving away things you value, for heaven’s sake!”

“Yeah, so? It’s my company, it’s my stuff.”

I tried to rein in my fear. “My cousin did the same thing several years ago. She made sure her parents’ names were on her bank account and her house deed, she made sure her ex had copies of their little girl’s papers, she came by our house to bring me our great-granny’s hand-carved rolling pin because I’d always liked it. Then she went out and killed herself. So you’ll excuse me if I overreact a little when I see you doing the same damn things—”

His jaw dropped. “What? No. NO. Why would I—I don’t want to die. I don’t WANT to die!!”

Over the momentary panic in my head, rational thought reasserted itself. Tony’s reply rang with shocked truth, and I caught a hint of desperate emphasis in his words, one word stressed a hair more. That gave me a thread to hold onto and follow. “You don’t _want_ to,” I said, “but something’s making you afraid you might, sooner than you’d wish. Am I close?”

Even as I spoke, I realized how out of line I was. I opened my mouth to take it all back, until Tony started to laugh. It was a soft, fractured sound, nothing I had ever heard from him. “That night we met, I liked you because you were sharp. I couldn’t bulldoze you like I could other people. Should’ve known that’d come back and bite me in the ass.”

I turned sideways on the love seat and pulled one leg up, so I could face him. “It’s not my business, Tony. But the people who love you have been through a hell of a lot lately. I care about them, and about you, and if you’ve never lost somebody to suicide, believe me when I say it’s far worse for those left behind. Now, we can forget I said anything. You say you’re not thinking along those lines, I’ll take you at your word. Somebody needs to know what’s going on, though.” He tuned toward me and sat quietly for a moment. I could almost see the gears spin in his head as he tried to decide what to tell me. I supported myself on my observations, and took a flying leap on a hunch, the way I sometimes do. “Are you sick?”

His face scrunched. “Kind of?” he offered. I gave him a ‘really?’ look, and he sighed. “I’m working on it, okay? I’m trying to fix it. Fixing things is sort of what I do, you know.”

“Hate to remind you, but as far as I know, you aren’t a medical doctor. If you’re ill, that’s who you need fixing things.”

Tony waved his hand. “I know more about this than any doctor does or could.” 

I glared. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

He met my glare and made an exasperated little noise. “You aren’t gonna let this go, are you?”

“I won’t bother you again about it, but I won’t stop worrying either.”

“That’s what I thought,” he grumbled, fiddling with the zipper on his hoodie. “Okay. Here’s the deal. When we were ambushed in Afghanistan, I took shrapnel in my chest. One of my own damn bombs landed right beside me. I could read the trademark before it blew. Talk about a bullet having your name on it, huh?” This laugh was sharper, and bitter. “Ten Rings had captured a surgeon, Yinsen. They kept him to tend their wounded. If Obie had paid ‘em enough they probably would’ve just let me die, but since he was a cheap fucker and they had a use for me, they had Yinsen take out all he could. It was made to work its way into the body. Hell, I knew that better than anybody, I designed it that way. I had a week, tops, before it reached my heart.” Inwardly, I gasped; outwardly, I sat perfectly still as if trying to coax a shy wild thing near.

“Yinsen rigged up an electromagnet, wired to a jeep battery, to hold the shrapnel he couldn’t reach. Great idea, but damn awkward, not to mention hazardous when I got—well, anyway, I made some improvements.” With a quick move, Tony unzipped his hoodie and pulled the hem of his t-shirt up. I squinted at the unexpected blue-white glare that shone from a round area in the center of his chest. “So that’s the big secret. I might live years, or I might go tomorrow, who knows. It’s the kind of thing that makes you realize you can’t put things off forever.” 

“Looking at your legacy.” I understood now; oh, did I ever.

“Yeah, I want to leave behind something better.”

I resisted the temptation to reach out, but I leaned in for a closer look. “What makes it glow?”

“Arc reactor technology, same as the big one we had at SI.”

I lifted one hand to block the glare so I could see the device better. The scarred skin around it was overwritten by creeping blue-grey veins and rash-like inflammation. “Is this all from—from the procedure?” I asked, tracing in the air above his skin.

“Eh, allergic reaction. I’m working on that too.”

“And everything you’ve done since then…” Building armor, escaping his captors, changing the direction of his career and life, fighting off his mentor and would-be murderer, and more. “You did that, lugging around this thing that’s keeping you alive. Dear Lord, Tony, you are a piece of work.” 

He snorted and pulled his shirt back down. Knowing what to look for, I could make out a faint glow now through the fabric. He didn’t zip the hoodie back up, but said jokingly, “Please don’t stare.” 

“Now you know how we gals feel when a guy looks at our boobs while we’re trying to talk to him,” His open laugh seemed to ease any tension in the room. Unfortunately, I needed to ask a question that might bring it right back. “Does Pepper know?”

“About this? Yeah, of course.”

“Well, she doesn’t act like it. I think you need to be sure she understands.”

“I’m fixing it! Why worry her?” I glared. “Okay, okay! Just, let me do it in my own time, Chris. I want your word on this. I _need_ your word, okay?”

“Of course. It isn’t mine to tell. But she’s really concerned. She loves you, Tony.” He rolled his eyes. “For crying out loud, I cannot believe two people as smart as y’all are can be so dumb. She loves you, and I know you’re crazy about her, don’t even try to deny it.”

“I admit, I may be a little crazy about her. A small amount, maybe 12% or so, crazy about her.”

“If you’re worried how long you might live, do you want to die not knowing if she loves you?”

“I don’t want to give her false hope,” he said bluntly. “I’m not going to lead her on, make her think we could have a future, and then die on her.”

Anybody else, I could have stared down. With Tony, I could only get sucked into those dark-honey eyes for so long. “Dealing with you makes me need alcohol,” I grunted and got my bottle of sweet-tea flavored vodka. “Remember when you came out as Iron Man, and you told me the world needed more honesty? That’s still true. And Shakespeare said the best legacy is honesty.”

He winced and held his glass out for a shot. “I still don’t get why you care. You’re a reporter, not a social worker, and you can't exactly print any of this.”

“Pepper’s my pal. She’s been there for me, and I’ve been there for her. I just want the best for her. As for you…gosh, I guess I‘ve never told you what changed my mind about you, have I? Obviously,” I gestured toward the little model car, “you remember that night we spent together. I do too. Most especially, I remember when things didn’t go quite as planned, instead of leaving me to my own devices, how—determined you were to make sure I—”

“Got off,” he finished and swigged his spiked tea. “That was as much about my ego as anything, you know.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “That dog won’t hunt.” 

“Translation?”

“Argh. Why do I revert to Southern around you? Translation, I’m not buying it. When I came after you in Vegas, I hated you; rather, I hated who I thought you were. But that night told me I didn’t know everything I needed to about who you really are. I said to myself, ‘face it, Chrissy, only a decent man cares more about another person’s needs than his own’. It forced me to look closer, and when I did, I saw plenty that confirmed it. So don’t give me the ego excuse. As Stephen King famously said, bullshit is bullshit and will never be mistaken for McDonald’s secret sauce.” I set my glass down and spread my hands. “You’re stuck with me, Stark, unless you just don’t need another friend.” 

Well glory be, had I actually managed to silence that celebrated mouth? Tony’s eyes lowered to his hands, then bounced around the room, looking at anything but me. “Been a long time since I had a girl friend, as opposed to a girlfriend. That was back in college, and she was a lesbian, which I guess sounds weird to compare, doesn’t it, considering you and I did sleep together. Well, I didn’t sleep much that night with you. I bailed for my workshop. Always got Pepper to throw my one-nighters out in the mornings, because I hate drama, but I told her to throw you out, more or less, because I liked you, and that—kinda scared me? And confused me, because I did, I do, like you, but not romantically—"

“Of course not. You’re 12% crazy about Pepper, dumbass.” 

“—and the throwing you out didn’t work anyway, because you and Pep bonded, and that scares me even more, and I’m babbling, aren’t I?” 

I had to giggle. ”Yes, you are.” He looked down and fidgeted some more. My hands rested on my thighs; I turned them palm up and slid them toward him with a questioning look. It was a long few seconds before Tony reached out to take them tentatively. I used that contact, after a few seconds more, to scoot myself over, and lifted my hands to his shoulders to gauge his reaction. He took a little breath and his eyes flew up to mine, widening a bit as if in surprise. I thought again of the night we met, and my sense then that nobody really valued him for himself. _He probably doesn’t get many hugs either_ , I thought, and felt an instant of almost physical pain for him.

When I smiled, he leaned in. I slid my arms around his shoulders, and felt a hesitant touch at my waist, before Tony’s arms went around me in return. His cheek rested on my shoulder and I felt a small sigh of released breath against my neck. The way we were sitting, I couldn’t have put pressure on his chest, and I wondered if his showing me the arc reactor had made him feel safer, maybe, in touching me and letting me touch him. 

“Pep told me,” he said, his voice muffled, “what you did for her while I was gone, and, um, JARVIS records everything, so I saw a lot of it too. I never thanked you for that, for just being her friend, and that’s one other thing I don’t want to leave undone. If I die tomorrow, I want you to know how much it means to me that she had—has—you beside her.”

“She’s got me, but so do you, Tony. Please, my friend, don’t give up.” I chose my words with a purpose, to claim that, and remind him I was his friend too.

With a soft snort of laughter, he sat up straight. I squeezed his shoulders once more before I let go. “I won’t,” he promised; but I saw a shadow in his eyes that made me afraid for him.

When he stood, I did too, and picked up the model to hand it back. He shook his head. “Keep it. If I figure a way out of this, I’ll probably ask for it back. I might send you legal papers to ‘rescind, revoke, abrogate, and annul.’” 

A smile came to me half in spite of myself. “And when you do, I will never be so happy to give a gift back.” _When, not if, dammit_ , I thought, and sent up a silent prayer for his wellbeing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrissy is off to Monaco! Among other activities, she interviews Hammer, assesses some art, dresses to the nines, and debates guarding Tony's virtue. Fun and games abruptly end when she has to choose between her work and helping her friends.

So, as they say, _no shit, there I was_ ; flying across the Atlantic to Monaco. I spent most of the flight obsessively reviewing the notes Pepper had sent me and several etiquette guides. This was not going to be a comfortable place for a kid from rural west Tennessee, but I was determined to pull it off. 

A car and driver met me at the airport and whisked me off to a villa. Hammer greeted me at the front with effusive smiles and kisses on both cheeks. The place was beautiful, and my brain went into overdrive assessing the value of the art pieces (translated, how many years I would have to work to replace one if I broke it). A few casual questions revealed they weren’t his art; in fact, it wasn’t even his villa, but a rented one. _Hmph. Invite me to Monaco and then put me up at an AirBnB._

The next couple of days before the race were a whirl of parties and social events. I met dozens of people who could probably have bought the medium-sized town where I grew up with what they had in their pockets. Like any group of people, some were pleasant and some were noxious. My daddy taught me to treat everyone the same until they give you cause to do otherwise, so I held to that direction. All went smoothly, and I managed not to embarrass myself or my host.

Hammer was a perfect gentleman to me, to be honest. Actually, he was marginally more inappropriate when admiring some pretty and scantily clad young men at one yacht party; marginally, because he worked really hard to not be obvious. Our interviews went well, and if not for the unfortunate fact that he was a complete doofus, I would have enjoyed the whole thing immensely. Dressing up several times a day for fancy outings was almost like a modern version of the medieval role-playing games my cousins played.

On the morning of the race itself, I accompanied Hammer, not to the race course through the narrow streets of the old city of Monte Carlo itself, but to an exclusive club alongside, with huge video screens where wealthy patrons could watch in air-conditioned comfort and sip champagne. Personally, I’d rather have been out in a grandstand rubbing elbows with the true believers, but that would have to wait until I won the lottery or snagged my own billionaire.

I was standing near the bar with Hammer when I caught a familiar voice threading through the hum of conversation and laughter. Evidently my subject heard the same; Hammer grinned, spun on his heel and poked his head around the people behind him. “Anthony, is that you?” he bubbled. I tried not to snort into my empty juice glass, because the target of that fulsome greeting was _not_ going to be happy to hear it.

Hammer gestured to me. I followed his lead and stepped beside him, to see both Tony and Pepper. They both looked much more pleased to see me than they had him, I thought with concealed amusement. My amusement got harder to hide as Hammer introduced them to me as if they had no clue who I was. “You know Christine Everhart from Vanity Fair?”

I played along, and so did Pepper. “We do!” she said. Hammer might interpret her little smirk at me as who knows what: maybe he’d figure she was thinking _you gold-digging little bitch_. Only she and I knew she was smiling because she had picked out the sleeveless aqua day dress I was wearing, and approved of the tiny gold clutch, cute sandals and showy bracelet I had paired with it. We were going to have hours of girl-talk when this was over, whenever her high-powered new job allowed for it.

“Yes, roughly,” Tony replied. I was reminded of our conversation after his infamous ‘I am Iron Man’ press conference, when he had called me by the nickname he gave me and I accused him of only roughly remembering my name. He wiggled his eyebrows at me; of course, he likely remembered that too and was trying to mess with me. Strangling a giggle, I made a mental note to whap him upside the head when I got the chance—gently; he still looked weary and less than a hundred percent, to me.

“BTW,” Hammer went on, trying to be all hip, “big, BIG story.” He pointed to Pepper. “The new CEO of Stark Industries. Congratulations!”

I made a big deal of following suit, since doofus didn’t know I’d known that only hours after the fact. “So I've heard! My editor will kill me if I don’t get an interview with you soon,” I gushed at Pepper. “Or at least some quotes for our Powerful Women issue.”

Hammer, naturally, couldn’t let somebody else have more than a couple seconds of attention. “Christine's actually doing a big spread on me. I thought I'd throw her a bone, you know?"

_Shut up, asshole,_ I thought. _You’re trying to throw somebody a boner, but I’m pretty sure it’s not me._

"Right. Well, she did quite a spread on Tony last year," Pepper said, with an evil glint in her eye. 

"And she—” Tony started. I was standing between him and Hammer, and I just knew he was about to say something nasty. I mean, Tony Stark never met a double entendre he didn’t like. Carefully, I brought the pointy kitten heel of my shoe down on his toe, just hard enough that he stifled a little yelp. “Ulph, it was, um, good.”

“Very impressive,” Pepper agreed. “Very well done.” I knew Hammer hadn’t bothered to do any research on me before he agreed to my interview request, because he kept asking me who else I had worked with and how he compared to them. She excused herself then, while Tony all but wailed for her to stay and protect him from Hammer.

I took pity on him, and decided I could run a little interference while doing my real job, so I whipped out my phone and fired up the recorder. The next moment, I nearly dropped the thing when Hammer moved in on Tony. “Hey, buddy, how you doin’? Lookin’ gorgeous!”

_Oh, for the love of—is doofus over there putting a move on the boy?_ I pulled myself together; of all the reasons I was standing there right then, guarding Tony Stark’s virtue was not one of them. “Okay, let me ask you two," I said in my best crisp interviewer's voice, "is it the first time you’ve seen each other since the Senate hearing?” 

“Since he got his contract revoked,” Tony shot back.

“Actually, it’s on hold,” Hammer demurred.

When Tony got hold of something, he would not be deterred. “That’s not what I heard," he said. "What’s the difference between ‘hold’ and ‘cancelled’? The truth?”

My ears pricked. This definitely sounded like something worth pursuing. “Yes, what is it?” I asked as we walked toward a table and sat down. 

Hammer sputtered. “No. The truth is—” He spun on me. “Why don’t we put that away?” he snapped, indicating my phone recorder. “The truth is,” he went on, returning his attention to Tony, “I’m actually hoping to present something at your Expo.” 

A petite redhead appeared to escort him to his table: the new PA Pepper had mentioned earlier, I guessed. “Well, if you invent something that works, I’ll make sure I get you a slot.” Hammer protested that he already had a presentation space for the Expo. As Tony walked away, he tossed over his shoulder, “Hammer needs a slot, Christine!” 

I just rolled my eyes. _Sounds to me like he’d rather have your slot than mine_ , I thought. Reluctantly, I focused my attention back on my target while he declared what big buddies and great kidders he and Tony were, the ‘healthy competition’ they had, and, tellingly, how Tony’s pulling out of weapons manufacture had opened the field to him. From what I heard, he wouldn’t have needed that opening if his own builds were any good. I tried not to zone out, but I was thankful for the recorder.

My eyes wandered across the room to the nearest video screen, and froze. Surely to heaven, I wasn’t seeing what I thought I was: Tony, down on the street, in a racing suit, beside the Stark Industries car. No way. No fucking way. I tore my focus from the image and scanned the club. Was Pepper down there with him—no, there she was across the big room, her eyes fixed on the screen too, and her mouth slightly agape.

About that same time, Hammer finally noticed my attention was elsewhere, and turned toward the video screen. “Is he driving?” he demanded.

I glanced back in time to see a reporter shove a mike in Tony’s face. Through the sudden increase in noise in the room, I could make out his words. “What’s the point of owning a race car if you can’t drive it?” With that, he _climbed into the damn car._

With Hammer gawking at the TV, I looked back and met Pepper’s distraught gaze. I was torn. I had a job to do, but my friend plainly needed help now. I wavered, which drew my subject’s notice. Hammer started in again on how he and Tony weren’t competitors. This time, my brain translated that as ‘I’m too chickenshit to get into a race car, but I might try if I thought it would make me look better than him’.

I slipped behind my cool professional mask. “This is some amazing stuff. I need to make a couple of calls, but I’ll be back as fast as I can.” He sputtered something about me reading back what he had just said. _Uh, dumbass, I haven’t written it down yet, I can’t read it back._ I gave him a second to look back toward the screen before I hightailed it across the room. “What the _fuck_ is Tony doing, Pepper?” I hissed.

“I don’t know! Have you seen Natalie? Tony’s new assistant?” I shook my head. “You saw her earlier, though? You know what she looks like?” At my nod she went on, “Can you try to find her and send her here? If you see Happy first, tell him to get the suitcase and come find me.” Whatever that meant, I could deliver a message. I shot off through the gathering throng.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the confrontation in Monaco, Chrissy does her job and checks on her friends. She finally meets Natalie, who challenges her position, asks her opinion, and gets an unexpected answer.

I never found the elusive Natalie, but tracked Happy down within minutes. My errand completed, I headed back toward the club’s main room. I could have found it blindfolded from the noise, but as I reached the door the volume exploded. I pushed my way past the knots of people, some standing from tables and others crowding in to stare at the TVs.

There were screams. When I finally got inside, I saw why. A man was walking down the middle of the race course, wearing some sort of harness. He held gear in his hands that emitted long tendrils of electricity, blinding as lightning, that he wielded like whips. What caught my stunned gaze instantly was the brilliant orb at the center of the harness, over his chest—exactly where Tony’s arc reactor sat.

Not a person in the room was seated, including Pepper. When I spotted her, I glanced back over my shoulder, in time to see Happy shoving his way through the now frantic crowd, using a big silver suitcase like a bulldozer blade. Smaller and quicker than him, I squeezed between gawkers in fancy dress till I reached Pepper. I grabbed her hand and towed her back with me to meet Happy halfway. Whatever they had in mind, time was clearly of the essence. “Be careful, you two!” I called as they rushed out.

I located Hammer in front of a screen. Cries of alarm filled the room as the stringy-haired man in the image wrecked a couple of cars, then turned his wrath directly on Tony’s. I hung onto a chair for support and watched in dread as the car wiped out and a fuel leak kindled into flame. Tony was tough, but without his armored suit he was no stronger than any other man. That didn’t stop him from fighting back, trying to block the attacker with whatever was handy. “Lord God, we need a heap of angels down there, right now,” I murmured. Hammer looked away from the TV long enough to glare at me, as if my quick prayer personally offended him. 

It seemed forever before a grey Rolls careened into the picture. The attacker went at it, shredding the beautiful vehicle, and Happy, bless him, backed up and pounded the guy with the front bumper. Pepper threw that mysterious suitcase out onto the road, Tony popped it open, and, unbelievably, a familiar red and gold suit began to unfold from it and close around him. Within seconds, he was protected and armed, and went after his assailant full-bore. “Or Iron Man,” I amended my petition. “Iron Man’s good, Lord.”

The horrified gasps of the viewers became cheers as Tony disarmed the interloper and local police appeared to cart him off. Hammer stood quietly, though, and I noticed his focus had been fixated on the villain of the encounter the entire time. The crowd began to drift away, since it was pretty obvious the race was not going to be finished today, and my subject caught hold of my wrist and led me back to the table we had shared. Reaching deep within me, I summoned calm to wrap around me like a shawl. “Well!” I said brightly. “That wasn’t quite what we expected to see, but it was quite…”

“Stimulating, yes. What an amazing system that man had. An entrepreneur could do a lot with that kind of tech.”

“As long as they didn’t choose to use it to ninja-slice cars and hurt people in a city street! Why would anybody do that?”

“Actually, it looked to me as though he was deliberately targeting Tony,” Hammer drawled. “Now, why on earth would somebody do that, I wonder?”

I didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. Suddenly, I did not want to spend another moment in his presence, at least not now. “Finding out the answers to questions like that is my job,” I told him. “You know I could listen to your fascinating stories all day, Justin, but breaking news trumps human interest stories.” I tried to look sad. I really did, and from his reaction, it seemed to be working. “Duty calls. I’m the only person Vanity Fair’s got anywhere near here, and my editor's already texted me to get all over this. No, don’t worry about me!” I added with a raised hand as I stood and he started to object. “I know you will, you’re such a dear, but I promise I’ll be careful. I’ll get a cab back to the villa as soon as I’m done.”

The instant I was out of his sight, I texted Pepper. ::you ok?::

I blended into the flow of the throngs on the street. They mostly appeared to be flowing toward the wreck site, from the clusters of flashing crisis lights I could see in the distance, so I went along until my phone buzzed a reply. ::yes. With Happy at hotel. Police didn’t keep us long. Tony’s still there, he wants to talk to the man.:: Of course he would. Pepper said they were staying at a plush hotel right on the race route, so after I hiked down to the scene and tried to get some basic information with my high-school French, I turned toward the address she gave me. 

When I finally reached my destination, I greeted Happy when he opened the suite door and fell onto the nearest seat. “Nobody told me Monte Carlo had so damn many hills,” I grumbled and pulled my shoes off. They weren’t high heels, but they weren’t hiking boots either. “This is worse than tromping around in the Smoky Mountains.” 

What I’d told Hammer wasn’t a lie. Will had wanted me to write and send an article ASAP…after I messaged him with a heads up. Neither he nor anybody else at VF figured I’d be doing part of my information-gathering while sprawled on a fancy hotel’s sofa wearing a pair of the fancy hotel’s house slippers provided by Pepper. By the time she and Happy had given me a first-hand account of their harrowing experience (recorded with their permission, thank you), Tony returned from the police station, looking both exhausted and banged up now. “I got a name,” he said.

“Yeah?” I looked up hopefully, then remembered who I was and where I was. “Oops, sorry. That's not my business. Fell out of reporter mode and into friend mode there for a sec. Let me—oof—put these damn shoes back on and get out of your—”

“Sit,” Pepper ordered. “You’ve got blisters on your feet. You know how to do off-the-record, right?” I rolled my eyes at her and turned my recorder off. “She _walked_ from the club to check on Happy and me,” she told Tony.

I started to argue that I was working too, but shut my mouth with an almost audible snap when Tony gave me a long look and then flopped down in a chair. “The more brains the merrier,” he said. “Anton Vanko. Ring any bells?”

“Not right off,” I shook my head. “Is that the perp?”

“His father, supposedly. Guy’s got some beef against me. Or maybe dad; he kept talking about the Stark family legacy.”

“That far back, there’s probably not much online. I’ll check hard copy archives when I get home and put out feelers to my contacts. This being a European thing, my ex in London may have something. Simon has access to the craziest stuff, and I'd trust him with most anything.”

The group of us chatted about generalities for a few minutes more. Tony called the airport to get his plane ready so they could head home, Pepper excused herself to pack, and Happy went to rent a car. “How’s your assignment going?” Tony asked while I wedged my feet back into my shoes.

“Better the closer to over it is. Hammer tells me y’all are tight.” 

“Yeah, he’d like for us to be tight. Or me, at least.”

“Thank you for saying that. I thought it was just me.” I clapped my hand over my mouth “Shit. I shouldn’t have said that out loud. I seem to lose all filter when talking to you, even when alcohol’s not involved.”

Tony cackled. “Well—this is off the record too, thank you very much—”

“Isn’t that kind of understood between us by now?” Damn, I shouldn’t have said that either. _Way to compromise your journalistic integrity, Chrissy._ When I looked up, though, Tony looked oddly grateful, so I couldn’t find it in me to regret the words. 

“I was just going to say today was far from the first time he’s hit on me, but I don’t have an idiot kink.”

I laughed and shook my head. “He really is a dumbass, bless his heart.”

“Hah, now I hear the difference. The ‘bless your heart’ thing, I mean.”

“Yeah, I’d prefer to bless his heart with a two by four.” It was nice to see Tony laugh. “What were you thinking?” I asked gently. “I call you ‘hot rod’, but I didn’t mean it in a literal sense.”

He shrugged. “Like I told the broadcaster, what’s the use of having a race car if you can’t drive it?”

After a moment, I said, “Bucket list?” Tony didn’t reply, but the weary lines of his body spoke for him. I let it drop. A scolding, however well meant, was clearly not what he needed right now.

I planted my sore feet and started to stand, then was silently surprised when Tony was suddenly there in front of me, taking my hands and helping me up. Now that the ice had been broken, he seemed less shy of touching me, and I wondered again how much he needed that and might not be getting it. “Thanks, cornbread. For everything, but especially for checking on Pep.”

“What are friends for?” I grinned.

The suite door opened and the redhead I’d seen earlier came in. “Mr. Stark, Mr. Hogan is here with your car,” she said.

“Thanks,” Tony said with that camera-ready smile he seemed to pull out of his pocket and paste on in an instant. “Have you two met?”

“Not formally,” I said and put out my hand. “You must be Natalie. I’m Christine, I’m a friend of Pepper and Tony’s.”

“Christine Everhart,” she surprised me with her crisp response. “From Vanity Fair magazine. How can you say you’re their friend?”

I bristled, but before I could answer, Pepper said firmly from behind me, “I say so. So does Tony.”

Tony nodded vigorously. “What she said.”

I squeezed Tony’s hand, then turned and hugged Pepper. “Be careful. I’ll holler if I dig up any leads. We need to get together and talk, Pep. I’ll see you at Tony’s birthday party, if not before.” 

They offered to give me a ride to Hammer’s villa, but I declined, wanting to keep our friendship on the down-low. While they headed for their car, I hung back. Natalie brought up the rear, and paused beside me in the hotel corridor. “Miss Everhart? What’s your opinion of Mr. Stark?” 

She was new to the ongoing drama that was Tony Stark’s life, which called for an actual blessing of her heart, I thought. “We don’t have an hour,” I told her, “so I’ll just keep it simple. Tony is as brave and kind and good a person as I’ve had the honor of knowing. Not saying he’s perfect, he’s got issues, but all of us do, am I right?”

Judging from the way she blinked, that was not even close to what she had expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks and shout out to my friend Coldie for the loan of her two by four to bless Hammer's heart with. :D (waves pom poms)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Tony's disastrous birthday party, Chrissy makes a connection and steps up to help.

I scoured every database could access, and every print morgue and library microfilm in southern California (some of those do still exist, and I pride myself on knowing where they all are) and called in every marker I was owed from anybody I thought might have halfway relevant intel on one Anton Vanko. Turned out, he was a Soviet physicist who defected in the early 60s. Several years later, he was accused of espionage and deported. There wasn’t much info available, especially not after that, obviously. My ex Simon had a little more luck; he tapped his overseas connections and discovered Vanko did indeed have a son. It sounded like the apple hadn’t fallen far from the treacherous tree; Ivan Vanko, also a physicist, got caught selling plutonium to Pakistan, and served fifteen years in a Soviet prison. 

It wasn’t a lot, but it was something. When I called Tony to pass the news along, though, he was less excited than I. Granted, he said JARVIS had dug up the same facts, but at least this was confirmation of what little he had been able to get out of his attacker in Monaco. I was a bit disappointed in his lack of reaction, until he told me Vanko had just been reported dead in an explosion while in custody. “That’s one less thing to worry about, then,” I sighed. “How are you doing?”

“Still working on things. Looking forward to seeing you at my party. We’ll have a blast. Everybody should celebrate each birthday like it’s their last.”

My mood wasn’t improved when Justin Hammer called, practically squealing with anticipation. “Christine, beautiful Christine! You must come with me to the Stark Expo. You’ll be my honored guest at my presentation. I’ve got some new toys to show off that will blow everybody else out of the skies, literally.” He tittered at his own pun. “My new partner is a genius! We’re going to make Stark Industries look like a corner yard sale. Come on back to the Big Apple, and we can get together and finish our interview. Please, please say yes!”

I explained I had a commitment tomorrow night, but I could head for New York after that, and he was satisfied. As I hung up, I stifled a sigh. Tony’s birthday party had provided a convenient pretense to get Hammer off my case, but to be honest, I was starting to have second thoughts about attending. I had seriously slacked off on keeping up my reportorial independence. Even the appearance of bias could spell the end of my career. It was bad enough I had let Tony pay for my Monaco wardrobe; nobody better ever find that out! Natalie Rushman’s judgmental gaze would be only the beginning, or, more likely, the end of my troubles then. 

Against my worries of compromise, I could set only my fondness for the people in question. I thought about Tony at my apartment, about the trust it took to let me see him uncertain and vulnerable in a way that I knew he didn’t let the world see. When I thought of Rushman’s disparaging words, I was reminded how Pepper had spoken up before I even could. I called them my friends, and they returned the sentiment. And if Tony was as sick as he seemed to fear, I would be damned if I would be too timid to spend what might be his last birthday with him. The following evening, I pulled out the sparkly black cocktail dress I’d taken to Monaco, dressed for a party, and headed for Malibu.

Music was bumping from inside Tony’s mansion when I arrived right around dusk. A crowd of people milled around, drinking and eating and chatting, but I spied a familiar figure getting out of the car in front of me. “Rhodey!” I called while I handed my keys off to the valet Tony had evidently hired for the night.

“Chris! Hey gal.” Rhodey stuck the phone he held in his jacket pocket as I approached. He took the hand I held out, then lifted and moved it to get me to do a little twirl in front of him. “Girl, you are dressed to kill tonight!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t get to let my hair down and kick up my heels very often,” I grinned and looked him over, admiring the neat grey suit and blue shirt on his lean, muscular frame. “You look nice too. I’m not used to seeing you out of uniform.”

“Every now and then they let me out of the stockade for a night. I turn into a frog at 2400 hours though.” He tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and we started inside, talking lightly about nothing in particular, until we reached the party area—and both of us stopped dead in our tracks.

A DJ was set up playing tunes, and in front of him was Tony, swaying unsteadily on his feet. It looked like he had already had more than enough to drink. Worse yet, he was in the Iron Man suit, laughing and yelling at partygoers. “What. The. Actual. FUCK,” I said slowly.

Rhodey shook his head, then called out “Pepper!” 

She was across the room but coming our way. “I’ve got to get out of here, get some air. I don’t know what to do,” she said, her look torn between distressed and just plain done with it all.

“You gotta be kidding me.” Rhodey reached for his pocket. “This is ridiculous. DoD is all for taking his suits by force already. I just stuck my neck out so damn far for him!” A crash came from the front of the room. The partygoers watched in mingled amusement and shock as Tony staggered around and knocked equipment and furniture over. “That’s it, I’m calling—”

“No!” Pepper reached for his hand. “Don’t, please. I’ll handle it, somehow, okay?”

“Then handle it.” Rhodey’s voice dropped to a low decisive rumble. “Or I’m gonna have to.”

Pepper headed for Tony and tried to talk him down, telling everybody the party was over. Tony was drunk as a skunk. He started peering around, and I shrank against Rhodey’s side. “You okay, baby girl?” he said quietly.

“I, um, was trying to keep my being here on the down-low. As a reporter, I probably shouldn’t be at a party given by people I’ve interviewed several times. Not that I’m biased, but it could give the impression of bias.” Rhodey nodded. “If Tony sees me, especially in his, uh, current state, he’s liable to holler and come over, and there goes my down-low.”

Up front, Pepper’s best efforts weren’t making an impact. In fact, after a minute of her working on getting him out of the room, and him working on putting the make on her, he started blasting random things around the room. It got worse when people started to grab things and toss them in the air for him to blast! “Oh shit,” I gulped. “Somebody is gonna get hurt in here.”

Rhodey started to walk backward and drew me with him. “Stay out of the way,” he said. “If you can flag Pep down, get her over here too. I’ll be right back.”

By the time I got my startled brain together enough to ask questions, he was gone, probably to call whoever it was Pepper had begged him not to. I couldn’t say I blamed him, either. I scanned the room and wondered if I dared approach Tony myself. If he wouldn’t listen to Pepper, though, he was too far gone to listen to anybody else. What the hell was he doing? Had his attempts to fix his medical problem failed and left him ready to give up and crawl into a bottle?

I didn’t see Pepper, but in a minute I heard an odd sound, instantly recognizable but totally out of place. Tony was still at the front of the room, gyrating and giggling in his suit, so what was that noise behind me…I turned, and gasped at the unexpected sight of Rhodey in another Iron Man suit. This one was plain silver metal, and with his serious face peering from the helmet, gave him the air of a medieval knight ready for battle. “Move, Chris,” he said in that low, firm tone. “This is probably gonna get messy.” 

Pepper appeared just then, gaping at Rhodey just like everybody else. What came out of my mouth startled me. “How can I help?” I asked him.

Rhodey scowled and opened his mouth, to tell me again to get out of his way, I was sure. Pepper jumped in and said, “Get these people out of here. I have—someplace else to go.”

With a glance at her, Rhodey raised his voice so everybody around could hear. “I’m only gonna say this once. _Get out._ Follow her.” He nodded curtly in my direction, and as I started to herd alarmed partiers toward the doors, he yelled at Tony, “You don’t deserve to wear one of these. Shut it down!”

I didn’t look back, even when the crashing and blasting started. My focus narrowed to the task at hand, moving this crowd out of harm’s way. As soon as they were outside, though, they started circling around to press themselves against the glass outer walls. When I did look around, it looked for all the world like a life-size version of the old Rock’em Sock’em toy robot fighters. Punches flew and glass shattered. _God, protect them both,_ played over in my head on a continuous loop of prayer. “Come on, people, it’s not a damn pay per view, let’s get a move on.” I kept urging them to move away, with little success, until Tony spied his audience and let out a crazed roar. 

At least that got them moving. I sighed and looked back once more, unsure whether Tony saw me or not, and not particularly caring by that point. His histrionics didn’t scare me at all, though a part of my brain thought I really ought to be. Instead I felt a pang of genuine grief, as if I was watching everything he had accomplished in the past months fall to pieces around him, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to help.

Once the crowd got away from the fracas and calmed down, I enlisted several of them to help track down the valets. We found them on the far side of the house, having wisely taken shelter there. Happy appeared with Pepper in tow about then, and we set about matching folks to their vehicles and sending them home.

The property was almost cleared when the thunder of launch shook the air. The silver suit swept out the broken front glass and arced up into the night sky. Relieved, I watched it soar away. _Lord, this couldn’t have been easy for Rhodey. Take care of him._ With an apprehensive glance at the wreckage of half of Tony’s beautiful house, I added, _and take care of Tony too, whatever’s going on with him._

I hugged Pepper and Happy, located my car and headed home. After this disaster, a couple of days with boring, ditzy, mildly obnoxious Justin Hammer was going to seem like a vacation.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the party, Chrissy helps with damage control, decides to check on Tony, and confronts a mysterious one-eyed man.

My phone started blowing up shortly after I fell into bed. Granted, I didn’t know it until I woke up at 6 AM. By then I had three voicemails from somebody from Anderson Cooper’s office in New York, wanting to tape an interview for his show that night. It didn’t surprise me that he was the one who remembered I knew my Stark. I drove to the local studio that worked with CNN, stared into a camera, and answered a ton of questions about Tony. Yes, he was a patriot. No, as far as I knew, he would not give up his proprietary technology. Yes, responsibility was important, but so was personal liberty, and balancing the two was an ongoing process. No, I hadn’t seen any video of his birthday party, so I couldn’t speak to that. (It wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t been online.)

The anchor gave me a sharp look, and I prayed he wouldn’t ask who the girl who looked just like me in the video was, because if somebody had had their phone out, it was a sure bet they had caught me wrangling party-goers. Thankfully, he let it go and started asking about Pepper. It hadn’t occurred to me, but as the new head of SI she was now almost as consequential a focus of press attention as Tony. 

It was easier talking about her. All I had to do was praise her level head and her business acumen. I talked about how she had a sharp a mind as there was to be found, and how she had learned what to do, and not to do, from the best. As for how I knew all this: well, if one thing I’d written had stuck in the media’s consciousness, it was my piece for Vanity Fair that tore rumormongers to shreds while Tony was missing in Afghanistan, and that had involved a lot of interview time with Pepper. Instant excuse; just add a winning smile.

By the time I finished with Cooper, three other networks had called for comments. Before I realized it, the day was more than half gone. The phone rang again while I was driving home and I groaned, but this time, it wasn’t some TV station’s minion. It was Pepper. “Chris, we do have a media presence. What are you doing?”

“Doing my job. Answering questions and being polite, Covering my ass and trying to help cover yours.” 

Pepper sighed quietly. “You don’t have to do that, but thank you.”

“What friends do,” I returned as I parked at my apartment. She sounded beat. “Think I’ve hit all the major outlets except Fox, and after the last crap they pulled, they can bite my corn-pone butt.” Which reminded me… “Heard from Tony today?”

“No.” Her flat tone said she wasn’t sure she cared if she ever did. “He did so well, for so long, I really thought he had changed.”

“The alcohol—do you think it’s just a coping mechanism?”

“Maybe. I wish he’d talk to somebody. I do think Afghanistan is still eating at him.”

“You’re the only one who could persuade him to. I think he’d open up to you before anybody else, if he knew how much you care about him.”

“Chris,” she sighed. “There’s just so much…I like a stable life, and with Tony, things are never stable. Even now, what with all the things he does in the suit, I’m not sure I can stand the worry. And, emotionally, it’s two steps forward and one back. Sometimes more than one back, like last night.”

“Yeah, but if he died in the suit tomorrow, you’d spend the rest of your life regretting you never told him.” An idea came to me suddenly. “For that matter, something more mundane could take him. How’s his health, Pep?” Tony had said she knew about the arc reactor and its uncertainty; surely this wasn’t breaking my promise to him.

“His health?” Pepper sounded puzzled. “Um, okay, as far as I know. Why?” 

Damn. I couldn’t say anything without breaking my word, even though it sure sounded like Tony had broken his promise to level with her. I couldn’t tell her, but I could raise questions. “He, uh, hasn’t looked well, to me, the last couple of times I’ve seen him. And I was thinking, after you told me what all he’s been doing lately; maybe something’s going on, something making him think he might not live as long as he should.”

Pepper was quiet for a long moment, processing what I’d said, I hoped. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “I’d ask when I see him, but you know as well as I do how hard it is to get a straight answer out of him sometimes.”

“True, it’s not like you have time to chase him around the mulberry bush, as my daddy used to say.”

“Absolutely not. I’ve been on the phone all day. When Rhodey took off in the Mark II suit, he took it straight to the military. I’m siccing everybody in SI legal on them to get it back, or at least establish it’s our tech and they can’t copy it.”

“Check Anderson Cooper out tonight. I already dropped a few words out there on that topic.”

“Thank you. I have to head east in a little while, but I can watch on the plane.”

We made plans to meet at the expo, and she sounded calmer when she hung up. I finished packing, then decided to call Tony. Three attempts yielded no answer, and I left a brief ‘hey just thinking of you’ message. If I were a betting woman, I’d say he was majorly hung over, but a niggling whiff of concern made me hop back into my car and head toward Point Dume.

A mile or so from Tony’s house, a roadblock loomed. Puzzled, I eased to a stop. A man and a woman, both in dark fatigues, approached my window, with the stride both easy and vigilant that I’d seen in special troops and undercover cops I’d interviewed. “We’re sorry, but you’re going to have to turn around. This road is closed.”

“Is something wrong? I, um, I was at a friend’s house last night, and I seem to have lost my wallet. I’m hoping it’s there.” _Smooth, Chrissy, real smooth._

The look they exchanged was as good as rolling eyes. “There’s only one house up this road, miss, and it was damaged last night. It’s structurally unsafe.”

“Unsafe?” Now I really was alarmed. “Forgive me for presuming, but you two don’t strike me as construction workers. I’ve tried to call my friend several times and he’s not answering. Is he home? is he alone in a house that could, what, slide off into the ocean any minute? Has anybody even been up there to check??” I fought to keep my voice as calm as I could, which wasn’t much considering the situation, but I really did not need to get dragged off to some black-ops prison over Tony Stark.

After another wordless interchange with his partner, the man said, “Wait just a moment, please.” 

They both stepped away, and I grabbed my phone. _Come on, answer, answer…_ “Rhodes.”

“Rhodey! Thank the Lord. It’s Christine. Have you heard from Tony today? ‘Cause I’m sitting on the road below his house, it’s barricaded, and two folks who smell like agents of something or other are telling me his house is unstable? What’s going on?”

“Huh? Wha—I don’t know, Chris. I haven’t talked to Tony, but the house looked basically intact when I left. Listen, I’m in the middle of shit at work, I’ll call you back, or you call me?”

I reined in my irritation as movement outside my car caught my eye. “Okay. Somebody else is coming over, I’ll call you back.”

The somebody else was an imposing figure: a tall man, African-American, bald, dressed in black, including a long coat that swirled in the warm spring breeze like Darth Vader’s cape. He halted near my car door and said in a resonant voice, “I’m an old man with a bad back, and I really don’t feel like bending over to have a conversation. So I’d appreciate it if you’d exit the vehicle, miss, and we can talk like civilized folks.” Cautiously, I stepped out. The man’s stern face was bearded and mustached. One dark eye met mine, the other covered by an old-fashioned patch. “You’re looking for your wallet, I understand.”

He looked like he believed that about as much as the original road guards had. “I could be. I’m more concerned about my friend who lives up there, though.”

“Your…friend.”

The tone of his voice said what his words did not, and it suddenly irritated me. “Yes,” I snapped. “My friend. Not boyfriend, not fuck-buddy. FRIEND. It’s an uncomplicated English word. You look like an intelligent gentleman, so I’m sure you understand it.”

He let out a quick bark of a laugh. “Aren’t you sassy? I can see where you actually _could_ be a friend to Tony.” That caught me off guard; it was spoken like someone who knew him. 

“I am,” I said simply. “And the last few times I’ve seen him, he…didn’t seem well. I don’t mean anything alcohol-related, either.” 

I had promised Tony I would not tell, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t ask. It was a risk, being this honest, but I’d learned that sometimes that was a risk I had to take. A lifted eyebrow said maybe this time it had been the right approach. “Christine Everhart, Vanity Fair magazine,” he said slowly.

“At your service. You have me at a disadvantage, though, sir. May I know with whom I am speaking?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Sorry, that’s how these things go.”

“Hm, true. Government work can be like that, I hear.”

This time even the eyebrow half hidden by the patch went up. “Go big or go home, huh? You’re a tad too perceptive for your own good.” I shrugged. “If there _was_ anything I could tell you, and it showed up anyplace else, in print or otherwise, even as speculation, I couldn’t guarantee your security.”

Whew, I was inching out on a limb here. “Then, knowing that, I’d be stupid to say anything to anyone, now wouldn’t I? I may be blonde, but I’m nobody’s fool.”

“Ha! Didn’t Dolly Parton write that?”

That startled a smile out of me despite the tension, so I decided to press forward in this moment of thaw. “Please, sir, I have to go out of town tomorrow, and I’d feel better knowing Tony’s okay.”

The man sobered, and after a long moment of staring me down, finally said, “He’s all right. He’s working on a project for us, with a strict 72-hour deadline. If that deadline is not met, life will be lost. Mr. Stark recognizes the urgency of the matter, and he’s in his workshop, on lockdown, right now. I just checked on him myself, and we have staff with him at all times to provide any help he needs.” I let out a low whistle. “I’m guessing that sufficiently conveys the gravity of the situation?” I nodded “Then, if you value your own safety, and your friend’s, you’ll keep this to yourself. Until we meet again, Miss Everhart.” Without another word, he turned and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I didn't expect Chrissy to meet Nick at this point in this story, either. lol. It's going to make some later things even more interesting, though.
> 
> BTW, Nick's reference to a specific timeline is canon. In a comic tie-in, just before Fury goes to meet Tony, a SHIELD scientist tells them that by their reckoning Tony has 72 hours left before the palladium levels in his blood kill him. So, when Nick tells Chrissy if the problem isn't solved by then, life will be lost, he means it literally--one life will be lost, namely Tony's. Fury is always very careful with his words.
> 
> ETA, Nick's music knowledge is right on the money. Chrissy paraphrased a line from an old Dolly Parton song called Dumb Blonde. LOL


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrissy has an intriguing conversation with Rhodey. Later, at Hammer Industries, she follows the sound of a bird, is shocked to meet a certain presumed-dead Russian, and may pay a high price for her discovery.

I waited until I was back in my car and pointed toward home before I dared reach for my phone and call Rhodey back. Given his short reply to me earlier, I half doubted he would answer, but he picked up almost immediately. “You get anything?” were his first words.

“Yes, but most of it I can’t tell you.” He started to swear. “Rhodey! Listen to me. What I’d guessed was right. It’s a government thing. You’re military, you know what that means. I had to pretty much pledge my life before they’d tell me anything at all.”

The cussing died down. “Classified, then,” he finally said.

“Yes. I talked to a man who seemed to be in charge. He knew who I was, without asking; and he said he had seen Tony, and Tony is all right. Beyond that, it gets into the stuff I can’t say.”

Rhodey let out an explosive sigh. “Tony’s middle name ought to be Trouble.”

“Funny, I always thought it was Fuckin’.” As Rhodey chuckled, I went on, “I guess you’re working on the suit you left with last night. How’d you know how to use it, anyway?”

“Tony dared me one time to take it on a test drive. Being a pilot helped me catch on. I…assumed the brass would ask Tony to work it over, upgrade the systems and all, once I brought it in, but they gave it to your buddy Hammer.”

“Shit,” I said fervently. “Don’t rely on anything he builds onto it, Rhodey. He’s borderline competent at best. I wouldn’t trust him to change a tire, let alone commit my life to weapons he made.”

“I know. Nothing I can do now, though. He left with it for his shop back east, a while ago. I’m supposed to demo the adaptations at the expo.”

“Hm, I’ll be at his place tomorrow finishing my interview. I’ll keep an eye out there for the suit, and maybe I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, I’d like that…Hey, Chris? You know when you interviewed me for your article, and we talked about Pepper?”

I thought for a second while I navigated the turn up my street. “I remember. I admit I felt better knowing somebody else saw how she felt about Tony.”

“Well, um, you do know, he’s…”

“Just as crazy about her,” I finished. “Yes, I’m well aware of that. I finally pried it out of him awhile back, in fact. Nothing would make me happier than for those two to get their heads out of their butts and get them, well, elsewhere.”

Rhodey’s laugh sounded brighter. “Okay, good, that’s, ah—that’s good. I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want you to get yourself hurt, baby girl.”

I groaned as I parked at my apartment and went in. “Why is it so hard for people to understand that it is indeed possible for a man and a woman to be friends?”

“Oh, I’m good with that! It’s just, you haven’t known Tony that long, relatively speaking I mean, and it surprised me that you seem to care so much about him. Although, now, that may be why. You haven’t been around long enough to get to know his worse features yet.”

I snorted. “Believe me, Rhodey, I get that. Sometimes, though, it seems like his best qualities get overlooked by people, and that’s not right. But, yes, I could smack him upside his head on occasion.”

“Like last night. You deserve props for that by the way. You kept your head, got the civilians out of the line of fire—I was impressed.” That warmed my heart. I suspected Rhodey did not give out praise lightly. “Let’s try to hook up after the expo. I’m looking forward to spending some time with you when we don’t have some crisis or other going down.”

“Me too.” I hung up feeling better on several levels, and intrigued on one other.

+++

The next morning, I was headed back across the country toward New York City, and to the posh boutique hotel on the Upper East Side where Hammer had made me a reservation. Much to my chagrin, he insisted he had to finish preparations for his presentation, so we would have to complete the interview afterwards. I had been eagerly looking forward to the meetup Rhodey had suggested following his demonstration of the flying suit ‘upgrades’ (and yes, I used mental air quotes on that word) so I countered Hammer with an alternative proposal. “Justin, we’re both going to be exhausted by then. Let’s get a good night’s rest, and meet for breakfast in the morning, and finish up then. That way we’ll both be fresh, and you’ll have had a little time to think about how you want me to word your victory statement.”

He hemmed and hawed, but thankfully didn’t hang up in a snit. I spent the afternoon staring at the TV in my hotel room, doing a little cross-stitch, browsing online for recipes, and generally killing time until I got ready for the evening’s festivities. It was going to feel very strange, attending the Stark Expo on the arm of Stark Industries’ leading rival, but I knew Pepper wouldn’t hold it against me. Work was work, after all, and I certainly didn’t know any trade secrets I might divulge.

Late in the afternoon, a car picked me up and took me to Hammer Industries in Queens, near the expo grounds. He was bustling around supervising the packing and loading of a score of large, tiny-headed armored humanoids. “Aren’t they great? They’re drones! One soldier can control a dozen of them, without putting himself at nearly as much risk.”

I made suitably awed noises. He promised me a “delightful” meal before the presentation, then hustled off yelling at his workers. I scanned the area but didn't see the suit Rhodey was to demonstrate; it probably had already been packed up. Giving up, I walked out into the work area quietly, thankful I’d remembered to wear comfortable low-heeled shoes with my dressy blouse and flowing pants. The clanging and banging of metal diminished, replaced by an odd sound, almost like a bird chirping. Curious, I followed the tweets. Maybe Hammer was working on cybernetic pets, on the side. Who knew with him? Finally I located the source of the sound, which was, surprisingly, an actual bird! A pretty white cockatoo sat on the shoulder of a man busy at a computer, his back to me.

My rubber soles weren’t stealthy enough, apparently, and he turned as I approached. I stopped, and forced myself to hold onto the mildly inquisitive mask of the moment before, because I knew the face that turned to me: broad and tan, with high Slavic cheekbones, a mustache, and a scar trailing down from his left eye. Long greying hair was pulled up on top of his head. I had seen the light eyes that now squinted at me over reading glasses; seen them on a video screen, ablaze with homicidal rage as he bore down on my friends on a Monaco street. Ivan Vanko was supposed to have died in a European prison, but horror crashed over me as I realized he was looking at me, right here, right now. Thank heavens, he had never seen me face to face, so he had no way of knowing I knew Tony or Pepper. _Words, Chrissy, use your words!_ “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t realize anyone was working back here. Everyone seemed to be up front packing up Justin’s gear, so I thought I’d just get out of their way and have a look around.” I stepped forward with my best magazine-ad smile firmly in place and a hand out. “I’m Christine. I’m a reporter doing an article on Justin. And you are?”

Those cool eyes missed nothing, looking me over. “Working,” he said at last, with the strong Russian accent that I had expected.

“Of course. I’m so sorry to have interrupted you! I heard your bird, actually.” I smiled up at the creature on his shoulder, and it chirped and tilted its head at me. “She’s lovely. May I touch her? I grew up on a farm and I love animals.”

“Better not. Might bite.”

“Oops! We don’t want that happening. Have you had her very long?”

He shook his head. “Had old bird. Lost when I came here. Hammer got new bird for me. Nice bird, but not the same.”

“No, you’re right. I don’t understand people who think pets are all the same. They have their own personalities, just like humans do. It was kind of Justin to find you a new friend, though. How long have you and he worked together?” A hint of a scowl drew his brows together and I raised my hands. “I don’t mean to pry. When I write about business people, I always make a point of interviewing some of their employees.”

“Not employee. Partner, you would say. Associate.” I gave a little nod of comprehension. “Had trouble with law. Came here, Hammer gave me place to work. Now can achieve my goals.”

_Yeah, right. Unless your goal is still to hurt my friends, in which case you'll do it over my cold dead body._ “That’s wonderful,” I said through my teeth. “How good of Justin to give you a second chance. A dear friend of mine was imprisoned for a time. When he came home, he was so changed, for the better.” I had to get out of here and let Tony know this dangerous man was on the loose. As that thought flicked through my head, I heard Hammer call my name. “That’s my cue! Thank you for talking to me. I hope things turn out for the best, and you earn your rewards.” The careful phrasing was almost a prayer. I steeled myself to turn my back to Vanko and walk away.

“What are you doing back here?” Hammer snapped when we met near a bank of machinery. “I heard you talking to somebody.”

“Just one of your—associates, I think he said, bless him,” I replied with an indulgent smile. “I always talk to employees when I do a piece on a big business type. Elon Musk, Stavros Papadopoulus, Tony Stark—”

“Ah yes, Tony Stark.” I let myself hope that throwing Tony’s name into the mix, comparing Hammer to him as if an equal, would hit home and stroke Hammer’s ego enough for me to change the subject. “You’re close to him, aren’t you?”

I cocked my head to project feigned puzzlement. “No more so than anyone else I’ve been assigned to—”

“You’re lying.” My hand was sliding into my pocket to locate my phone, until he grabbed my wrist and jerked me into motion. “You went straight to his hotel in Monaco as soon as you left me, you little slut. I paid the cabbie to tell me where he picked you up. And just now, you were back in my workshop spying for him, weren’t you?”

“I’m a journalist, Justin! I have to go where the story is, I’ve told you that! Industrial espionage is not my gig.” My brain spun to grind out the words that would get him calmed, but he seemed beyond that. He plucked my phone out of my hand while he hauled me through the workshop and out the front doors, and stuffed it in his inside jacket pocket. “Hey! I need that! How am I supposed to do an interview without my recorder? You’re always asking me to be certain I quote you correctly, how do you think I’m—”

“Shut up,” he hissed. When his hand came back out of his jacket, it was holding a small pistol. I blinked, and I have to admit, my first impulse was to see what brand it was. if it was Hammer tech, I probably had a 50-50 chance the thing would even fire. Those weren’t odds I was willing to bet my life on, though. A driver at the foot of the front steps opened the back door of a black stretch limo. “Get in,” he said with a vicious smile. “You want a story, I’ll give you a story. You get a front row seat to watch the dismantling of the Stark legacy.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrissy is Hammer's unwilling guest at the Expo, but she has a bit of a plan.

The limo didn’t leave immediately. Instead, I was left to cool my heels for a good little while. Naturally, after a minute or two, I opened the door, only to be met by a pair of thick goons with weapons considerably larger and more intimidating in appearance than Hammer’s little derringer. “Come on, a gal needs some fresh air on occasion,” I complained. “Are we going anywhere anytime soon?” One goon slammed the door without reply. 

The delay did give me time to organize my thoughts. In Monaco, Hammer had been fascinated by Vanko’s image on TV—had they already been in cahoots then? Probably not, since he had talked in such admiring terms about the tech the Russian wielded. From what Hammer had said just before slamming the car door, the two had similar mindsets; both wanted to destroy what Tony was trying to build. If they only knew why he was working so hard…no, they wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t matter to them that he wanted to make up for his past, or that he was sure he had little time left to do it. People like these two cared for nothing but themselves.

Without my phone to call or text for help, I had to stay cool and take care of myself. After a few more minutes, Hammer opened the limo’s back door and peered inside, with a manic smile. “Sorry, had to tie up some loose ends,” he said as he got in, still clutching the little gun.

I rolled my eyes emphatically. “Justin, would you _please_ put that thing down before somebody gets hurt? Yes, I know, you make them, so I’m sure you know how to use one, but accidents happen. What do you think I’m going to do, assassinate you with an emery board?”

He waved for the driver to get in and we took off. “My dear Christine,” he almost cooed, “don’t waste your breath pretending. I know what you’ve been up to!”

“That so? Well, let me in on the news then. Apparently I have multiple personalities that are having a lot more fun than I am! As far as I know, I spend my time working, and occasionally going shopping or out to eat or to a birthday party, or—”

“Birthday party,” Hammer repeated in a musing tone. “As in, the special event you were in California for, a day or two ago. A birthday party—for your, what, spymaster, sugar daddy, whatever. Tony fuckin’ Stark. Don’t play dumb, there’s video online. One of my employees recognized you in it.”

I made a split-second decision to stay the course, and let out a dramatic groan. “Yeah, I went to that clusterfuck of a party, pardon my language. With a date. What was I supposed to do, tell him ‘oh no, I can’t go there, somebody might see me, and oh woe, think weird things because I interviewed the birthday boy months ago?”

“A date.” He sounded unconvinced. “Who?”

“None of your damn business!” I snarled, and then pretended to catch myself. “I’m sorry, Justin. I know, in your line of work, it pays to be a little paranoid, but it makes me angry to be accused of something I didn’t do. Besides—” I let my voice and eyes drop and tried to sound a bit pitiful, “you promised me dinner. I get really cranky when I’m hungry. It’s my blood sugar.” 

As I had hoped, the gun muzzle wavered. I slouched to one side, only a hair, and sighed. Hammer gulped and stuck the pistol in his pocket. “All right, all right, don’t faint on me.”

“I’m not. I don’t think so, anyway. Just getting a headache. I’m sure there’s plenty of food to choose from at the expo.”

He grumbled. “I hate giving Stark even the inflated price of a hot dog.” Then he brightened again. “It won’t matter, though. This is the last over-glittered media bash he’ll ever throw.”

That sounded ominous. “How do you figure?” I inquired. 

Hammer’s manic grin turned malicious. “Uh-uh,” he shook his head. “Nice try, but no.”

“Whatever,” I grunted. “That little gun you had, while I didn’t appreciate it being pointed at me, was adorable. Is it a good shoot? I really should get something like that; sometimes I do have to deal with unsavory characters. I actually had to go to the California state prison to do an interview the other day!” I nattered on, in hopes of distracting him from pulling his piece on me again, but met with only limited success. When we arrived at the back loading entrance of the expo’s main pavilion, Hammer got out and took my arm in one hand, while the other hand slid back into his jacket. “You know what’s in here,” he said in a low voice as he smiled for a camera or two.

“My phone,” I griped. “Which I need back, thank you very much. It’s not even mine, the magazine bought it and if you break it they’ll take it out of my paycheck. I know you wouldn’t do it on purpose, but still, it would be broken and I’d be out the bucks.”

“If we handle this properly, you won’t have to worry about that.” Somehow, his assurance did not settle me. I prayed for calm and a functioning brain. Through a maze of hallways, we emerged in a backstage area with a bank of computers set up. Hammer handed me off to one of his goons and scampered over to inspect the tech, then spun to face me. “You,” he said, “are staying back here, nice and safe. Sorry, I’ve reconsidered, no front row for you.” I gave him the most ‘I’m over this’ look I could muster, to cover my actual fear. “Don’t worry, there’s a nice monitor right there. You won’t miss a second of me shoving your little pal into the ground and covering him with dirt. Figuratively. I hope.” This was really getting nasty. Worse yet, Rhodey was supposed to work with this asshole tonight. I sent up a quick prayer for his safety. “Now, you were swooning with hunger a few moments ago, as I recall.”

“I was not swooning,” I retorted, trying to keep up the mildly-annoyed-but-tolerant front. _Channel Pepper wrangling Tony on a bad day_ , I told myself and managed a half-smile. “I won’t turn anything down, food-wise. Um, a corn dog, maybe?”

“Ha. Low-rent, but never a bad choice.” He snapped his fingers and sent another minion off to the nearest food cart while he busied himself with final prep for his big presentation, humming along with the music that boomed from the speakers. I fidgeted until my keeper glared and shoved me, and scanned the surroundings through my lashes in search of something or somebody of assistance. Honestly, I didn’t know whether I’d rather have seen Rhodey and been afraid to call to him, or not see him and hope he was safe.

The minion hurried back with my corn dog. I thanked him, then raised my voice to carry over the hubbub. “Thank you, Justin. I’ll put this on my reimbursement form and get your money back. Right now, I’m—” I glanced around and spotted a large, empty wooden crate. “I’m sitting right over here, so please, nobody get nervous.”

My attempt to project fearlessness and unconcern seemed to be having an effect; Hammer’s goon kept hold of my arm, but trotted along and let me hop up to perch on the crate without argument. I pulled the paper sleeve off and started to munch slowly on the dog, swinging my feet. My menu choice was made for a reason, though not the obvious one. Seduction via batter-encrusted phallic symbol was not going to work on Hammer, and I really didn’t have the time to get well enough acquainted with my guard. No, it wasn’t the food, but the delivery method, that had come to mind as a possible helper.

“Show time!” Hammer declared. “Be a good girl, keep your mouth shut, and maybe tonight will end well for you,” he added with a point at me, and then was gone. 

I grunted and continued eating with one eye on the monitor. The stage out front was bare except for a podium. With a smack of my lips, I finished my snack and hopped off the crate. The goon started and stepped toward me with a threatening look. I sighed and pointed toward a nearby trash can. He reached for what I held, but I was already walking in that direction, until I halted. “Damn. I dropped it and it rolled under that box. Just a second.” Before he could argue, I went to my knees, turned so he could not see my hands, and twisted the corn dog wrapper up loosely while I slipped the stick into my pants pocket. “There it is,” I said with relief. Standing up, I twisted the wrapper tighter as if the stick were now inside, went and deposited it in the garbage. It wasn’t much, sure, but when I sat back down, the sharply pointed length of sturdy wood against my hip made me feel a little less helpless.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stark Expo explodes in chaos. Chrissy escapes her captor, and Pepper puts her to work helping get things back under control.

Hammer’s presentation started with him doing a dorky dad-dance out onto the stage. The applause was polite and curious; there were no wild cheers like the ones that had greeted Tony’s entrance at the expo’s opening. That had to gripe Hammer’s boxers, I was sure. 

He made a brief opening statement laced with snide references to that opening, to Tony and Iron Man, and then began to reveal his hulking metal drones, calling the names of the branches of US military. I grimaced and wondered what lie he had put on the application form to get this slot—Pepper had told me Tony explicitly banned military hardware from his expo. 

With a flourish, Hammer introduced Rhodey, and the suit he had taken from Tony’s house, Mark II if I remembered Pepper’s designation, rose from the front of the stage to gasps from the audience. It was bristling with new armament. He saluted, Hammer followed suit, and the drones did likewise.

Hammer had started another round of his sales spiel when he was drowned out by a powerful rush of sound. It reverberated from the speakers, and from the air around me too, like something I had heard before but immeasurably more intense. People in the seats began to turn and look around. Mentally I struggled to place the tone, and almost had it, when its source swept into view on the monitor in a streak of glow and blaze.

Tony made another perfect landing, and got another standing O, and further chafed Hammer’s underpants. I forced down a gasp and a giggle at the same time. He strode to Rhodey’s side and lifted one armored hand to wave to the whooping crowd. I frowned and started to jump off the crate to get closer to the monitor, until the goon riding herd on me pushed me back. “Hey, hands off the merchandise,” I snapped, and leaned as far forward as I could without falling off on my face.

After standing by Rhodey for a few moments, Tony moved toward Hammer. He didn’t seem to be trying to upstage the guy, other than by his sheer presence. They just appeared to be exchanging words. Maybe Tony got wind he was using his slot to promote military hardware and came to throw him out, I thought with a hint of evil glee. Not that that would help me much, unless I could slip clear of this thug hanging on to me.

In the next breath, everything changed. The big cannon-like gun mounted on Rhodey’s suit rose and locked into position, aimed squarely at Tony. All the drones instantly moved to do likewise. “What the fuck—” I yelped. Even the goon beside me gaped. Hammer dashed for cover, and Tony flew straight upward through the opening in the roof of the pavilion. The robots began to fire after him, and the glass roof shattered; huge razor-sharp chunks fell among the now panicking audience. 

Pepper was out there someplace, probably, unless she was backstage too, and I worried about her safety as well now. To make matters worse, Rhodey’s suit activated just then and he soared up into the night sky with a horde of drones on his heels. Other drones stormed out into the seating area, sending people fleeing before them.

Backstage, I realized numbly as I watched, really had been the best possible place Hammer could have made me stay. Had he left me here deliberately, because he was planning a trap? Had his ghastly allusions to putting an end to Tony and his legacy been literal? My fingers closed around the sharpened skewer in my pocket. I disliked war, yes, but action in a cause was a whole ‘nother thing. If any of my friends were hurt by this rat bastard, I would make him pay with his blood.

Hammer came dashing into the backstage area yelling questions. His techs were in a frenzy, yelling that all of their communications and control capabilities were down. “I think he slaved the drones!” one man cried.

_Ohhh fuck,_ I thought. _Vanko._

While Hammer frantically issued orders, more people began to rush backstage. If I could distract my guard for just a minute, I could slide away, but it was going to take more than just a few functionaries running around. “He’s locked us out of the mainframe!” a tech reported.

The crisp click of high heels neared, accompanied by a sharp and familiar voice. “Who’s locked you out?”

Hammer spun and started to yell at Pepper, who was trailed by Natalie Rushman. I seized the opportunity and hopped to the floor. The goon grabbed me, but I yelled, “Watch it, Pep, Hammer’s got a gun!”

Several things happened then, pretty much simultaneously. Pepper turned toward me, her mouth open in surprise. The creep holding me drew his own sidearm. Natalie shocked me by launching herself at Hammer and pinning him down to the computer table. 

And I slammed my shoe heel hard into the bones of my captor’s foot. He yelped, but he didn’t let go of my arm. That was fine with me, actually, because it gave me leverage to twist around and use my whole weight as momentum to smash my knee into his crotch. He did let go then, with a gurgly yell, and grabbed his jewels, but the other hand holding the pistol rose. I felt an instant of panic, afraid that it would go off and hurt somebody, and my response was automatic. I pulled the skewer from my pocket, lunged forward and thrust it straight at his eye.

A high-pitched shriek tore from his throat. The gun fell to the concrete floor with a clatter, followed by him, clutching at his face. I dropped my makeshift weapon and raced over to Pepper. “What the hell was that about?” she demanded.

“Ivan Vanko,” I panted. “He’s at Hammer’s workshop, they worked on this stuff together. I saw him there, that’s why asshole had me back here with a gun pointed at me.” I waved a hand toward the goon now whimpering in a ball. “The robots have gone mad?”

“Not so much mad,” Natalie corrected me, from where she still held Hammer crushed against the table with unnerving casualness, “as madness with a purpose.” She rifled through her captive’s jacket pockets and confiscated his little pistol. “Looks like Vanko rigged all the drones, plus Colonel Rhodes’ suit, so he could take them over, and direct them in a concerted attack on Stark.”

“Fuck,” I breathed. “If Tony gets hurt Rhodey’s gonna feel responsible—” _Lord God, give Tony speed!_

“I’m going after him,” Natalie announced, and left. Just like that. Huh.

“Did you know she could do that?” I asked Pepper. She shook her head while pulling her phone from her purse. 

That reminded me…I grabbed Hammer’s jacket front and stuck my hand inside. “Hey, hey missy, we don’t know each other that well!” he protested. 

“Shut up, dickhead. What I hear, I’m not your type anyway.” By the time I located and retrieved my phone, Hammer had realized Pepper was calling the police and set up howls of objection, which she ignored. “What’s the plan?” I asked her as she ended the call.

She gave me one second’s worth of that same sharp look Rhodey had given me a few nights before, the one that said ‘are you sure you want in on this’. Then she glanced over at the creep I had escaped (and really, I wasn’t trained in self-defense, so the fact I did that without conscious thought was going to blow my mind, probably, later on) and gave a small nod as if she had come to a decision. “Same as Tony’s birthday party, just on a much grander scale. I’m staying here to keep an eye on this bunch until the police arrive, and see if the techs here can break in and free Rhodey and the drones. I need you to go move people out of the expo. Tell security we need every bus, van, tram, horse cart, whatever they’ve got, just get every civilian off the grounds as fast as possible and with as little panic as possible.”

“On it.” I shot off, shouldering past arriving security guards, as Pepper leaned over and started firing questions at Hammer’s techs. Hopefully, they were smarter than him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrissy helps get everybody else to safety, but that's harder to do when it comes to herself and Pepper.

Outside, it was chaos. Drones were firing randomly, mostly hitting buildings, thank heavens, but people were in and around those buildings. I grabbed the nearest security guard, told him who I was and what Pepper wanted done. When he hesitated, I rattled off Pepper’s cell number for him to call and confirm. That conversation was short and pointed, and when he hung up he was more than willing to listen to me. 

Drone engines swooping around, explosions, crashes and screams made for a cacophony, but I was born with leather lungs. I projected from my diaphragm and started to yell and gesture, now with many more security guards to direct the flow of feet. “People! Everybody over this way. Let’s get out of the way of the machinery. Rides are coming to get you off the grounds and out to the parking lots and mass transit.” In the distance, car alarms were going off from the concussions that vibrated the ground beneath us.

As I had at Tony’s house, I forced myself to attend only to the single task of wrangling a frightened crowd; and as I had done that night, in the back of my head, I kept up a constant chant of prayer for Tony and Rhodey, for Pepper, and even for the mysterious Natalie. I did, I admit, also try to keep a running account in my head, for the article I was sure to be expected to write once this mess was over.

Once we got people clear of the mechanical troops, the evac went surprisingly well. I thanked every person who brushed past me, handed out encouragement and praise, helped people up into vans and onto trolleys. After the first few minutes, it seemed to become contagious. The usually self-focused New Yorkers began to help each other, talk to and comfort and reassure each other. Of course, I occasionally had to holler instructions like “Heads up, people, there may be bits of drone crashing, so be mindful of your surroundings!” The drones on the ground were firing, though they seemed to be mostly aiming not at the throng on the ground, but up at the skies—at Tony, I knew.

I stepped out of the way of people climbing onto transportation and scanned the immediate area for stragglers. Suddenly I spied a small boy in an Iron Man mask, wandering and looking lost. I kicked my shoes off (screw pantyhose, anyway) and started walking that way, not wanting to startle or frighten him by rushing. That plan hit the pavement when one of the huge drones stomped up to him.Iinstead of fleeing, the kid stood his ground and raised his hand in his best superhero pose. I swore under my breath and broke into a flat run, even knowing I could not outrace a robot’s gun.

As it happened, I didn’t have to. A blast of air ruffled my hair and the boy’s dark curls, as Tony landed behind the child and blasted the drone to bits. “Nice work, kid,” he said, then halted for an instant as I ducked and grabbed the child, my ears still ringing from the impact so close. “Chrissy?” 

He sounded startled, even through his face plate, and from the confused-puppy tilt of his helmet I could just imagine the baffled frown that was probably on his face. “All hands on deck,” I panted with a shaky grin. “Pepper’s in there beating this mess into submission,” I added with a nod toward the half-ruined main pavilion.

“Of course she is.” His tone was just as fond filtered through the metal. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

I gave him a steady look right at the eye holes on the mask, and I knew he knew what I meant. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m good. Better than good, even. I’m awesome.”

“Says you.” I raised my hand—way up (the suit adds a good half foot to his height)—for a quick high five. “Be safe!” I yelled as he shot back up toward the fray.

“You too!” floated back to my ears.

As I spun to get the child to a safer place, he wriggled in my arms. “Wow, you high fived Iron Man!” he said with awe in his voice.

“Yeah, he’s a friend of mine.” I reached the nearest clump of people just as a woman burst from their midst and ran toward me.

“Peter!” she sobbed, reaching for the boy. 

I pushed his mask up and got a look at an adorable freckled face and big eyes. He turned toward the voice and yelled, “Mom!” Good enough for me. I handed my load over. “Mom! I blasted a robot. Iron Man said I did good. This is his girlfriend!”

I had to laugh quietly. “Not a girlfriend, but he got one part of that right. Iron Man did tell him he did a nice job, so don’t think he’s fantasizing when he says that. You’ve got one brave little boy there.”

“Yes, we know he’s going places,” a man who was clearly our small hero’s father said with pride as he hurried over. The group of people who gathered around were friends and family, as it turned out, and had all stayed together looking for their lost lamb. I escorted them all to the nearest van to get them off the expo grounds, working my best articulate magic to calm everybody.

This time when I swept the area with a look, the area was almost cleared. Relief eased my tension somewhat, though I would not be able to relax until I saw all of my friends and knew they were safe: Pepper, Tony, Rhodey—and Happy, where in the hell was he? I was even concerned about Natalie, the personal assistant who had suddenly gone full-on combatant. If she had gone to Hammer’s workshop, Vanko could have taken or hurt her. 

Worrying about them wasn’t going to accomplish anything, though, and so I set myself back to my assigned work. I comforted and reassured and teased and vocally praised the toughness of the New Yorker state of mind, while I urged the last of the expo-goers onto vehicles and waved goodbye. No drones had attacked the space in some minutes by then, and quiet was returning, punctuated by some booms at a distance. A brace of angry-looking NYPD guys frog-marched Hammer, handcuffed and still yapping, out of what was left of the pavilion, stuffed him into a prowl car and pulled away. They were trailed by a familiar head of red hair flanked by half a dozen uniformed officers. I headed that way with another knot of anxiety loosening in my gut.

Pepper was talking with the police officers. “--city buses there to ferry people to operating lines.” She spied me approaching then. “Chris, how close are we to being cleared out?”

“Just about done. I think that was the last load.”

The man with whom she was talking nodded. “Are you coming with us?” he asked. 

“No, I’m gonna stay until we’re certain the park is completely clear,” Pepper replied. 

He glanced over at me and I bobbed my head. “I’m with her.”

“Okay,” he said, rounded up his force and headed off, stepping around the fallen drones lying on the cracked concrete steps. Pepper ran her hand lightly over her face, looking drained. I squeezed her shoulder.

“I saw Tony a few minutes ago,” I told her. “Made sure he knew where you were, so he’ll be back as soon as he gets things mopped up.”

She slowly nodded. “He was dying,” she said abruptly. At my noise of puzzlement, she burst out, “Natalie got into Hammer’s computer system—Vanko fled, I guess—and she got Tony and me both on the line while she freed up Rhodey’s suit. She was asking him something when I came on the line and he said ‘I’m not dying any more, thank you’. She knew, apparently, but he—why wouldn’t he have told me? I don’t even know what was wrong with him!” Hoo boy. The last thing I wanted to do at this instant was let her know I knew too! “You seemed to suspect something, Chris. How? Why, when I…”

I put an arm around her. “You and Rhodey have known Tony for so long, maybe it just took a fresh pair of eyes coming in, to see what you couldn’t. Might be why Natalie figured it out too. Who the heck is she, anyhow? How could she have gotten into Hammer’s place, run Vanko off, hacked into the computers and—” 

Pepper wasn’t listening. She frowned and pointed down at the drone lying nearest to us, where a red light had started to flash. “That doesn’t look good.” 

I gulped. “Self-destruct, maybe? It makes sense Hammer wouldn’t want his tech lying around, even as shitty as it is. Think we better bug out?”

“Yes,” was all she said. We both dashed down the steps and out into the central plaza of the expo. Crashed robots lay all around us, though, and every last one of them was flashing that ominous red light. Frantically, I looked around, but any shelter was too far and required running through what might have just become a minefield. Our eyes met as we realized we were trapped.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper and Chrissy get airlifted to safety. A long-awaiting merger begins, and Chrissy accepts a proposition.

Pepper grabbed my hand and together we started to pick our way across the plaza as fast as we could. I’m not graceful, and every time I stumbled or stepped on torn metal in my bare feet, Pepper stopped to help me even when I told her not to. standing around and waiting for death to come and get me was not my style, but I did not want her to get hurt because of me.

We weren't going to get clear in time. The red lights flashed faster. Pepper was gasping and I was dizzy. My ears roared and—no, that wasn’t my ears, it was—

Twin streaks swooped down from the skies. The instantly recognizable flash of Tony’s suit caught Pepper and launched back upward. In the next breath, metal arms closed around my middle, and my feet left the ground. I drew breath to scream—or tried to, which was hard with wind rushing in my face and through my hair—until I heard “Hang on, baby girl!” and realized Rhodey had me.

I wrapped my arms and legs around the silver-grey armor and sucked in a lungful of air, then another. Explosions echoed around us as we soared skyward, but the sturdy suit swiftly outdistanced any flying debris or heat.

When I dared look down, I was dizzied again, but this time by the view of the expo, or what was left of it, and the city rushing by below us. Above us the night sky twirled, and I let out a yelp of delight that made Rhodey laugh from inside his helmet. I’m so easy, sometimes. 

We followed the flame-like streak ahead of us until it landed on the roof of a tallish building. There was plenty of room up there, so Rhodey brought us down on the opposite side. My feet were cut and sore, and my legs nearly gave way, but he held me up. “It’s okay, Chris, I gotcha,” he said soothingly.

“Thanks. Damned adrenaline.”

“Hell of a rush though.” His face plate slid up and he grinned out at me. It was one of the nicest sights I’d ever seen. 

“I bet it’s amazing being in there and piloting.” I rapped lightly with my knuckles on the side of the helmet.

“Pretty great. Though I swing between ‘best thing ever’ and ‘take this damn thing back Tony, I never want to see it again’.”

Rhodey moved with a whirr of mechanisms and sat down on an air-conditioning unit. I spat my hair out and leaned against him, feeling the fear-induced shakiness start to ebb. “What happened?” I asked. “Vanko took over your suit, I know, and Natalie, Lord knows how, shook it loose.”

“A bunch of drones cornered Tony and me in the biodrome. We took them all out, but then a guy in a suit came at us with, like, these energy whips.”

“Vanko. I saw him go after Tony in Monaco, but he didn’t have a full suit then, just kind of a skeleton rig.”

“It was all on, this time. He had us there for a hot minute, but Tony had an idea, and it worked, brought him down. The drones were rigged to blow, so he came back to get Pep, and he said you were here so I came with him.”

“Thanks.” I laid my head against the cool metal of the suit shoulder. Rhodey’s gauntleted arm slid around my waist and I took a moment to just feel safe. Then I felt something else: Rhodey chuckling. He poked me gently and nodded toward the other side of the roof. I had vaguely registered Tony and Pepper’s voices, briefly raised as if in argument, but they weren’t talking anymore, and now I saw why. They were kissing instead. 

It took everything in me not to jump up and down with glee. Rhodey was manfully trying not to cackle out loud. When they parted, I heard Tony say, “Was that weird?” Pepper shook her head and said something soft in reply, and then they hit it again, murmuring to each other in between kisses.

That shot it for Rhodey. “I think it was weird,” he called. They broke apart and spun. I groaned and smacked him, the only result being a dull thunk against the armor. “You guys look like two seals fighting over a grape.”

“What??” I squeaked. “You do not have a romantic bone in your body, bro.”

“I had just quit, actually,” Pepper began.

“Yeah, so we’re not—“ Tony started to chime in.

“Don’t go there,” I said, forcing giggles down. “Just, don’t.”

“You should get lost,” Tony said over my head to Rhodey.

“We were here first,” Rhodey retorted. “Get your own roof.”

That finally made Tony laugh. “I hope that’s not a proposition,” I told Rhodey, “because if so, it’s a very, very bad one.” 

“Don’t encourage him,” Tony mock-scolded me, with a glint of humor in his eye. To Rhodey, he added, “I thought you were out of one-liners.”

“That’s the last one,” Rhodey said.

“You kicked ass back there, by the way,” Tony went on, more seriously.

“Thank you. You too.” That was Rhodey, giving credit where credit was due. It made me look up at him and smile.

“And Chrissy,” Tony added, his tone still earnest, “you were—amazing, and you shouldn’t even have gotten sucked into my mess—”

“Friends help clean up your messes,” I said simply. “Hide the bodies, whatever.” His smile was all the reply I needed.

“Listen,” Rhodey said to Tony, “my car got taken out in the explosion, so I’m gonna have to hang on to the suit for a hot minute, okay?” 

“Not okay,” Tony kidded. “Not okay with that.” 

“It wasn’t a question,” Rhodey quipped. It really was, of course, and sent my mind back to that awful night of the party when Rhodey had left without saying a word to Tony or anybody. How quickly things could change.

“I don’t have a ride either,” I said as Rhodey stood. “Hammer sent a car to pick me up. Could I catch a lift back to my hotel?” He was silent. “Or, if you can’t, that’s okay, I can—”

“No,” he interrupted me, “I was just thinking…we _were_ talking about getting together after the expo, you know.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly, “yeah, we were. I had a conflict come up earlier this evening, but I couldn’t let you know since Hammer took my phone while holding me at fucking gunpoint—”

“At gunpoint?” Rhodey gaped.

“Wait, what?” Tony burst out.

“—but since my scheduling conflict’s dumb ass is now in jail where he belongs,” I beamed at Rhodey, “the rest of my evening is totally free.”

He quickly regained his composure. “Great. You hungry?”

“Starving. Haven’t had anything since lunch, except a corn dog, and that was only so I could incapacitate Hammer’s goon with the skewer.”

Rhodey threw back his head in a laugh and looked over at Pepper, who just snickered, and then Tony, who by this time was reduced to sputtering incoherently. “I like how you attract bad-ass women, Tones,” he said, then added to me, “You know I’mma need that story before the night is out, right?”

“Of course!” I got a firm grip on the suit again, and gave Pepper a thumbs up and a big smile. “Night, y’all. Behave. Or don’t. Talk to you later, girlfriend.” This time, I was ready when the repulsors blasted and we soared into the night.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrissy and Rhodey's date!

The expo’s main pavilion wasn’t quite as wrecked as it had first appeared. Rhodey used the gear there to get out of the suit, and left it safely stowed there. Believe it or not, I found my shoes still lying out in the plaza where I had taken them off to run and rescue the little boy Peter! With my feet squared away, we hunted up a cab and headed for a nearby all-night diner he knew and was fond of.

Over patty melts and crispy crinkled fries, I recounted my adventurous evening to my wide-eyed companion. “Whew,” Rhodey said when I completed my report, “you deserve all the props, baby girl.”

I flushed and shrugged. “I admit I’m a little surprised at myself, thinking back over it all, but it was just a matter of doing what I had to do at the moment. Southern girls aren’t afraid to get our hands dirty when need be.”

“Good thing,” Rhodey nodded with a grin. “I admit, wouldn’t have thought it of you when we first met. You find things out about people, though, even people you’ve known for what feels like forever…” His voice trailed off, and for a moment he seemed very far away. “Once, when I was in college, this punk started giving me some racist shit, like he didn’t think a black guy ought to be at MIT. It was right after the start of the fall term, I’d just gotten assigned a new roommate, a child prodigy who could solve differential equations in his sleep but couldn’t make a sandwich without help.” It was my turn to listen quietly; I sensed where this was going. “So I’m trying to ignore this cracker, but about the time he gets down under his breath behind me in cafeteria line, talking about ropes and trees, my roommate, this 15 year old, knee high to a grasshopper, wild-haired little bundle of _rage_ was on him like white on rice! I had to peel Tony off him before he punched the guy’s lights out or got himself killed.

“That wasn’t the only time, either!” he continued as I giggled. “We used to go to a grungy old rock club called the Channel. One time, we went to hear a metal band called Wargasm that Tony liked. One of his classmates went with us, and met his boyfriend there—they had to be way on the down-low with that, of course, back in the day. This gigantic skinhead came at ‘em, and here we go again! You know how little dogs don’t know they’re little? Tony was like that. Really, he almost got pounded that night, sticking up for his buddies. A fool could say whatever to him, and he’d just mouth off at ‘em and keep on steppin’, but let somebody else get dissed and it was on like Donkey Kong.”

“I…thought that part of him was gone.” Rhodey’s light tone suddenly turned thoughtful. “I thought he had killed it, with the booze and dope and casual sex. The first flicker of it I’d seen in years was the morning I found him in Afghanistan. He was too damn stubborn to let them kill him. Then he started coming out, in the suit, when he said ‘I am Iron Man’ and started doing all the things he’s doing now, and I realized, that fierce little guy who wouldn’t let anybody bully his friends? He’d been in there all along; he just finally grew up, and had the skills to back up the words. Tonight was the first time I fought, side by side, back to back, with him, and let me tell you, Tony Stark has a warrior’s heart.” 

I just nodded; it didn’t surprise me. “You don’t give praise casually, I’ve noticed,” I said, “so I know you mean it when you do.”

“I do. And I want you to know, I’m glad you’re in Tony’s life. Pepper’s too. Good friends are hard to find. I gotta confess, when I first met you, I wondered if you were just in it for a story, but you’re the real deal.”

I was touched but waved it off. Rhodey branched out, telling more stories as we got a cab to my hotel. He had a real gift for spinning a tale. “You aren’t saying much,” he said on the elevator up. “Should I shut up?”

I took another pull on my milkshake and shook my head. “Words are my job,” I explained. “My brain is always working with them, manipulating phrases, constructing sentences, parsing metaphors and adjectives. Sometimes I just like to listen instead.”

He looked almost embarrassed. “I guess you’ll write an article about all this.”

“I will, but it’ll be about my experiences tonight. Other people’s stories aren’t mine to tell. Although I might steal that line about the warrior’s heart, if you don’t mind, and if I find the right spot for it. It’s a nice one. At the moment, though, I was under the impression I was still on a date, not on the clock.”

We stopped outside my room door. “I’ve gotta get the suit and head back to Edwards,” Rhodey said, almost apologetically. “Maybe, we can…do this again?”

“Absolutely.”

His dark eyes glittered, and we leaned in almost as one till our lips met. He tasted like the strawberry malt he’d been drinking. “Know what?” he breathed as we moved apart. “I’m glad you’re in my life too.”

“Likewise,” I replied. “Unexpected, but very glad.” I touched his cheeks. “Fly safely, Rhodey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, shortish chapter, sorry! The last segments of this story broke up best in this way. One more chapter after this one, and then the next story, Burst Into Flame, will start next week, I hope!
> 
> I had already written the first part of Rhodey's story about Tony when I was browsing online, and I found inspiration for the second part in this post on a Boston radio station blog.
> 
> http://archive.boston.com/ae/radio/blog/2013/05/bostonians_sharing_their_memories_of_mit_class_of_87_grad_tony_stark.html
> 
> It seems the city has fully claimed Tony, and this delightful article features locals 'reminiscing' about encounters with him back in the MIT days. My headcanon about Tony as a protective attack puppy was already set in stone, but it was such a thrill to find 'objective' support for it. hehe
> 
> Also, I've been waiting since early in the first Wordsmith story for just the right place for Rhodey's line about Tony having a warrior's heart. It's from the Iron Man 1 novel by Peter David, and I love it; it captures so much of Tony in just one sentence.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of this adventure! There and back again. Chrissy considers the new path of her life.

It was several weeks later when Pepper and I finally got our girls’ lunch. We debated where to meet. I teased Miss High Powered CEO that she could go absolutely anywhere. Then I suggested the most expensive place in town so she could put it on her expense account and Tony could write it off (and I was only half kidding). Pepper protested that she had to take people there for work, so it wouldn’t be like getting away at all. “In that case,” I suggested, “let’s just go down to the beach and get hot dogs.”

So, there we sat, two ladies in very professional attire, enjoying the fresh sea air and our weiners and chips. Pepper told me about her work, all the amazing and cool projects Stark Industries was launching to make the world a better, healthier, more frankly exciting place: wind farms, tree plantations, bio-sand water filters, and more. I told her about the latest articles I had written, and the self-defense class I’d signed up for.

“Pep,” I asked when the conversation slowed, “did you ever get anything out of Tony? Why he thought he was going to die?”

She was quiet for a long few seconds, with only the seagulls and waves as background. “Heavy metal toxicity,” she said finally, “from a…a project he was working on. That means—”

“I know what it means. Science geek, remember.” It was time to fess up. “Did it have anything to do with the arc reactor and his heart?”

Pepper’s mouth flew wide open in shock. “How…”

“When you told me how Tony was behaving, it really scared me, because it sounded like...the way my cousin behaved before she committed suicide. So I called him on it, and he showed me his chest. He led me to believe he was concerned it wouldn’t hold up, it could go anytime, and he just wanted to be ready. That wasn’t it, though?”

“’Half a truth is often a great lie’.” Pepper shook her head ruefully. “The arc reactor was powered by a palladium core. It started to leach into his bloodstream and poison him. He finally came up with a work-around, though. Don’t ask me more, that’s not my field.”

I paused to absorb the information. “Allergic reaction, my ass.” At Pepper’s puzzled look, I elaborated, “The skin around it looked horrible. He said it was an allergy.” The roll of her eyes spoke volumes. “So much makes sense now. I’ve reported on environmental contamination, so I know heavy metal poisoning can affect memory and impulse control—yeah, I know Tony has enough trouble with that as it is, but he’d been acting out more since this started, hadn’t he? It may not just have been despair.”

Slowly, Pepper nodded, and her eyes grew. “The strawberries,” she breathed with a look of horror. “When he came into the office the day after the party, he brought me some. Granted, he doesn’t always pay attention to things, but he _knows_ that I’m violently allergic. I always emphasized that they could kill me, and he’s always taken that seriously. That day, I thought he was just being extra shitty, but maybe…God, maybe he really couldn’t remember. He said he just knew there was some connection between me and strawberries, and I was so angry, and hateful to him…”

I took her hand in mine. “Don’t blame yourself, Pep. Tony didn’t tell you what was going on; he told me he had, but I’m guessing that was as much to get me off his butt as anything. Let’s be thankful he was able to fix it.” Then to get her in a better frame of mind, I teased, “At least he didn’t lose all his sense. He put you in charge of SI, didn’t he?”

She let out a faint but definite little laugh. “I always remember hearing, if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. The plan I had for my career, for my life, isn’t exactly going as I had envisioned, but you can’t let your past dictate your future.” Judging from the smile that danced over her lips, I hazarded a guess she was not completely unhappy with her lot.

“Same here,” I agreed. “It’s not every night, even in New York City, when a gal stumbles upon a mad scientist’s revenge plot, gets taken hostage and escapes, gets rescued by a couple of superheroes, and THEN gets taken out to dinner.”

Pep’s eyes glittered. “Yes. So, you and Rhodey…?”

“Have gone out to dinner, to the park, to the beach. Are going to a concert this weekend. Just hang out sometimes.” I smiled. “I really like him.”

“There’s a lot to like about Rhodey.” Pepper’s smile matched mine. “Tony took the suit back. He told Rhodey the Hammer weapons were a personal insult to him and he needed to strip every one off.” Over my snicker, she continued, “Of course, he didn’t tell Rhodey he isn’t getting the suit back, at least not that suit. Tony’s building a whole new one, custom built and programmed for him. The offer calmed the senators down, got them off Tony’s case, and as Tony says, Rhodey is damn good at using it.”

“So,” I said reflectively, “we’re completely in the same boat now, you and I, both of us worrying about our guys out being heroes. I’m just glad you and Tony finally got on the same page with your relationship.” Pepper gave me a side-eye. I was unrepentant. 

That evening, I texted Tony. ::hey hot rod, how’re you doing?::

Within a couple of minutes he replied, ::marvelous, cornbread. Yourself? My boy sourpatch treating you right?::

::of course he is :D I couldn’t ask for better:: 

::damn straight. He’s coming over Tues afternoon, thinks he’s getting MkII back::

::pep told me you built him a new suit! awesome::

::yeah it’s a pretty sweet ride. You want to watch his eyes bug out of his head, c’mon over then::

::I will. You still owe me a tour of your shop too:: I returned, realizing too late what I had done. ::sorry, disregard that last. You don’t owe me anything::

Apparently he got confused, and disregarded the second of the two messages instead. ::sure, just watch out for the bots, they’re all over new people, like puppies, except they don’t pee on the floor. JARVIS wants to meet you too:: 

::ooh the science nerd in me just squeed out loud:: I was thrilled to think Tony would not only show me his workshop, but introduce me to the bots and AI he had built and treated like humans.

::I’ll be sure to have earplugs on hand. Do your squees call small animals? Warn a guy in advance, I’ll implement other precautions::

Smart mouth. All I could do was ::lol::, until my gaze fell on the tiny Ford sitting on the table by my love seat. ::oh! I’ll bring your model car back then too::

::no. Absolutely not::

::but Tony, you aren’t dying anymore. Pep told me everything. And while I’m kinda peeved that you didn’t tell me the whole poop, it wasn’t my business, so it’s cool. This is yours though and::

::It’s yours, I gave it to you. If you even bring it up again I:: There was a brief pause. ::I will bring you a lizard or something. Girls don’t like lizards, right?::

::wrong. I grew up on a farm, remember? Lizards are fun::

::well shit::

::ha ha. See you Tues Tony::

::see ya::

I put my phone down, and picked up the little car, tracing the flames on the front of the shiny fenders. Like Pepper, this was most definitely not the life I had planned so carefully, but I chose to live in the future tense. I was grateful, beyond words’ power to describe, for the experiences and the people who made up my world now. One thing was sure: I could not imagine I would ever be bored again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end of another installment! Thank you all for reading and commenting. I hope everyone is enjoying riding along with Chrissy.
> 
> Pepper's line about 'half a truth is a great lie' is a quote from Benjamin Franklin, btw; and her theory about Tony and the strawberries is nowhere near canon, of course, but it makes sense to me, as it does to Chrissy, given the circumstances. Chrissy's thought at the very end, about never being bored again, is actually cribbed from the last line of the IM1 novel--it's what flashes through Tony's mind the instant after he says 'I am Iron Man'. LOL
> 
> The next story, Burst Into Flame, covers the time period of Avengers 1 and Iron Man 3, and ventures farther still from canon than the previous works. Though many of the main events of the timeline stay the same, the presence and input of another character will make things shift somewhat, both immediately and down the road...so stay tuned!
> 
> Burst Into Flame will start posting at the end of this week, hopefully.


End file.
